


The Reformation Process

by predominantly_normal



Category: Tangled: The Series (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Redemption, Trauma, post-season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-06-27 14:38:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15687417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/predominantly_normal/pseuds/predominantly_normal
Summary: Firmly believing that Varian is not the criminal Corona has made him out to be, Queen Arianna writes a series of journals describing her attempts to salvage the fourteen-year-old boy she knows still lives in him.[Reforming!AU][Multi-chap]





	1. Entries #1-#4

**Author's Note:**

> This work was greatly inspired by Marijke's "A Progression of Events"! You can read that wonderful fic right here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13599720/chapters/31219935 
> 
> I'm assuming this story will be fairly short- my expected range is 20-25k words. However, I have a lot planned for it despite, and I'm very excited. I wanted to write a bit of a 'fix-it' fic, because I was sort of irked by how Varian's villain arc was handled. So, of course after having been interested in Tangled: The Series for a grand total of two weeks, and not even having finished watching through it, I decided to write this.
> 
> Content Warnings for:  
> -Mentions of Attempted Murder  
> -Depictions of Panic Attacks  
> -Depictions of Anxiety/Trauma

Entry #1: An Undertaking

I have not had a new journal in ages. Unsurprising, considering that a constant preoccupation with my royal duties prevents me from having the time or means to embark on adventures worth writing about.

But I suppose it was never in my nature to stay stagnant forever. Today, I plan to do something big. Something terrifying. Something that scares me like nothing else- and yet, something that I have never been surer of.

I am going to see Varian in the castle dungeons.

I confess that I do not have a completely logical reason for my actions. Perhaps I’m relying solely on intuition; however, that night he kidnapped me at the Battle of Old Corona- I believe firmly that I saw something in him deserving to be saved. Because during the time that I was trying to reason with him, I caught this brief glimmer in his eye; one that looked hurt, and human. And one that begged to be helped.

Frederic is nervous about my plans to go to the dungeons, and has no hesitations with expressing that anxiety. Rightfully so, I suppose- but three armed guards to defend me from a child behind bars is just silly. I managed to compromise, and reduced my entourage to a single guard.

He is a newly recruited young man named Davis. And despite his lack of seniority, the Captain seems to have great faith in him to protect me.

Ah, I think I hear him coming in.

* * *

 

Entry #1: An Undertaking (Cont’d)

Varian was unwilling to speak to me. At least, not in a way that could be considered constructive. He scoffed at my every spoken word, patronized my motives to speak to him, and insulted my kingdom ruthlessly.

He is not making my task an easy one. But I suppose it was an oversight on my part to believe even for a moment that reforming a criminal might be anything but arduous.

Still, I cannot ignore that he looks sick and pale. He has thinness to match that of a child two-thirds his age and deep black circles beneath his eyes. I do wonder if he’s been portioning off his meals for the racoon that keeps him company in his cell.

I’ll have to ask the guards to provide extra food for him on account of that.

* * *

 

Entry #2: The Second Visit

Varian seemed almost surprised to see me again so soon. He has begun to question my intentions- as if some curious nature within him is overriding his desire to be cruel.

He has not stopped sneering at me, nor has he ceased in his attempts to get under my skin. Perhaps he believes that if he jeers at me enough, I will tire of him and give up. However, I’m finding that the more he strikes me with that sharp tongue of his, the duller the edge becomes.

* * *

 

Entry #3: Taking it up a Notch

I have been stopping by the dungeons as often as I can given my duties. Since my first visit, it has been two weeks. Unfortunately, there have been no developments to note since then. Past my second visit, Varian has not fostered any interest in speaking with me. He simply takes my presence, responds to whatever I have to say with vicious sarcasm that leads nowhere, and bemoans that he wants me gone.

There is some lack of trust on his part- but I suppose I cannot put him completely at fault. Trust, like love, must be given to be in turn received. And thus, it is almost laughable for me to stand on the free man’ side of his rusted prison bars, looking down upon him as a criminal rather than as a human being, and then expect him to divulge anything.

I believe I have an idea that will alleviate this problem. Frederic absolutely cannot find out about it.

* * *

 

“Davis,” Arianna says as they walk down the stairs that lead to the dungeons. “I’m going to ask something of you- something that you must not tell anyone.”

“Certainly, Your Highness,” Davis frowns as he escorts Arianna through the hall of prison cells. The prisoners do not take kindly to her presence, and stick their arms through the gaps in their cell bars to intimidate her. She is unfazed. “What do you ask?”

Arianna takes in a thoughtful breath. Long enough to consider backing out- short enough to prevent herself from actually doing it. “I’d like you to let me into Varian’s cell.”

Davis chokes, his composure falling apart for just a second. “Y-your highness, I mean no disrespect, however-,”

“I already know the dangers involved,” Arianna confesses. “And I’m nervous for my safety as well. But I’m getting nowhere by talking to him through his cell bars. Perhaps it's silly, but I feel as though physical barrier between us is creating another, deeper one when I try to talk to him. I’m confident that this is what I must do.”

She’s not confident. In fact, she is feeling more unsure of herself than ever. But faking her composure is something she’s excellent at. And Davis seems to accept her words without much further argument.

“You know, Your Highness, I want the boy’s freedom as much as you do,” he admits (quietly, because opinions like this are not part of his protocol).

Arianna raises a skeptical brow. “Is that so?”

“I was sworn into my station after the Battle of Old Corona, so I’ll admit that the experience is not as personal to me as it is to the other guards. However, I hail from Old Corona. I had lived there for quite some time while the rocks were taking us over. And I know how bad things got.” Davis shivers at the memory.

“I’m sorry, Davis,” Arianna says. “That must have been hard.”

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

Arianna stiffens her jaw and nods. “I’m positive.”

“Fine, then. I’ll unlock the cell to let you talk to him. But my crossbow will be ready.”

“Thank you, Davis,” Arianna says. She adds quickly, “And not a word to the King.”

“I-… yes, of course,” Davis nods.

Davis leads Arianna to the boy’s cell without further discussion, and both of them stop at the barred door.

Varian seems to recognize the sound of footsteps approaching, and though he does not look back to see her, he sneers, “Your Highness,” in curt greeting. The honorific sounds like an insult on his tongue.

“Davis. The cell, please,” Arianna commands. Davis complies, unlocks the cell door with a  _click_ , and pulls it open.

It’s on-cue that she feels her heartbeat quicken, and her lungs shallow out. Every muscle in her body begs her to turn around- to back away and not return. But she’s come this far already, and she knows she must keep going.

Arianna puts on a brave face. Davis readies his weapon as she walks into the opened cell-door and closes it behind her. Varian turns around at the noise, scowling.

“Oh, this is new. Are you sure you trust me, Your Highness?” He asks, a wolfish grin over his young face.

Arianna feels her breath catch in her throat. Varian looks like the darkness.

It’s an image that sends rapid-fire flashbacks of the black rocks, and of automatons, and of amber into Arianna’s mind. From the corner of her eye, she sees Davis’ finger on the safety- ready to unlatch it at any moment.

This gives her a moment of clarity.

“I do,” she says, forcing herself to be steady and strong as she’s done many times before.

Varian laughs- the typically happy noise falling like a dead weight as it echoes around the cold cell walls. “How generous of you to give me the benefit of the doubt. I tried to kill you once. Who’s to say I won’t try again?”

Arianna can almost feel the binding metallic grip of Varian’s machine tighten around her ribs. She squeezes her fists until her nails bite into the fat of her palms. “How would you kill me, Varian? You’re a child. Malnourished, and clearly sleep-deprived. You have no weapons here. No alchemy.”

“I-I could…!” Varian begins before catching sight of the crossbow aimed for the space between his eyes. He takes in a shaky breath and turns back around towards the wall. Ruddiger skitters over from his place beneath the cot to crawl into his owner’s lap.

Varian runs his fingers along Ruddiger’s pelt. “It doesn’t matter anyways, Your Highness. This means nothing. I mean, did you honestly think that you were changing anything by coming into my cell?”

Arianna sighs. She feels brave enough to take a step closer to Varian. And then another. She ignores his question, and counters with one of her own. “Are they bringing food for, ah-,”

“Ruddiger. Yes, they are,” Varian says.

“That’s good. I had a feeling you were portioning off your meals for him.”

Varian laughs brusquely. “He gets _both_ our meals now, Your Highness.”

“You must be eating something,” Arianna protests. “Nobody- not even to mention a fourteen-year-old boy- can survive for three weeks without food.”

“Nobody can survive _with_  it,” Varian snaps back. “Haven’t you ever taken a good look at the prisoners? They’re all sick. The food that comes on our trays is rotted and stale.”

Arianna draws her brows in. “Rotted-,”

“He eats the bread, Your Highness,” Davis cuts in. “Occasionally, vegetables. He refuses to touch anything liquid sans water.”

When she looks back at Varian again, Arianna suddenly notices the uncomfortably prominent jut of his shoulder blades as they stick out of his tunic. She feels a mix of disgust and comfort. On one hand, the physical proof of his ill health sickens her. On the other, she now knows that he wouldn’t have the strength to hurt her even if he wanted to.

It’s the cruel peace of mind she needs to speak again.

“Varian-,”

“Look, what do you want from me?” Varian interrupts, though the typical bite to his voice sounds sadder than anything else. “You have me rotting in this disgusting prison. You won. I have nothing. No way to free my dad. No way out myself. I don’t know what you could possibly gain from visiting me here other than to _taunt_ me.”

“I’m not here to taunt you,” Arianna says. “You’re just a child-,”

“I am _not_ a child!” Varian snaps, whipping around to glare at her. Ruddiger winces as the boy’s fingers clench in his fur.

There’s a flash of dangerous fury in the hard steel eyes that meet Arianna’s. It makes her breath hitch.

But then the moment passes, and Varian slumps back down again. “I-I’m not. I’m _not._ You- you just can’t understand someone _hating_ you, can you, Your Highness?”

“Why do you hate me? Did _I_ hurt you?” Arianna asks. She’s well-trained at keeping her annoyance in-check, but she can’t help her irritation from leaking through this time.

“Corona hurt me,” Varian says without missing a beat. “And you’re an extension of that.”

“And that justifies your past attempt to kill me?” Arianna says, and her voice wavers on ‘kill’.

Varian freezes. Whatever sharp insult he had on his tongue fades instantly. He stares at her, wide-eyed.

“That’s not my fault. I didn’t- I didn’t want to. I had to. I _had_ to.”

“You didn’t have to. You were angry-,”

“Your Highness, I want you to leave,” Varian snaps.

He turns back towards the wall and hunches over, threading his hands into his hair and tugging at it. Arianna knows it’s the only thing keeping him from giving the same treatment to Ruddiger. She should stop now- before he loses his temper- but she’s so close. She can sense it.

“Varian, I-,”

Varian whirls around, getting to his feet so quickly that he sways a bit and has to catch himself on the wall. He slams his hand into the stones behind him. _“Leave!”_

Arianna can’t ignore the panic in her chest that forces her to comply. Davis quickly opens the barred door, and then locks it again as soon as she is out. And then Arianna is staring at Varian once more from between the iron bars of his cell.

It takes her a moment to realize that Varian hadn’t even attempted to chase her. Instead, he’s sitting down again, forehead pressed to the cold stone wall, and back turned.

Arianna keeps a straight face the entire time she is lead out of the dungeon. Her expression is collected- almost unfeeling. And then she is lead back up into the palace, and the dungeon door is closed behind her.

Alone at last, she sobs.

* * *

 

Entry #4: The Proposition

I have not seen Varian in a week. I do not know if this is because of my compounding royal duties, or if it is because I am… _afraid_ of him. I should not have pushed. I know that. I just thought that maybe- _perhaps_ , I could have reached him if I just stretched my arm out a little farther.

Apparently not.

And yet, something about that visit in particular haunts me. I believe it is because I saw it again: that innocent glimmer in his eyes as he confessed that he hadn’t _wanted_ to kill me, but rather somehow _had_ to.

I am not foolish- I know those words hold no inherent good nature. But I can’t shake the nagging feeling that behind his cruel words, his outbursts, and his anger- he’s secretly asking me to help him.

I want to help him. I’ve confirmed that now. Before, I wasn’t so sure.

Frederic has always called me too empathetic for my own good. Perhaps he is right. Perhaps I am so desperate to see the good in people, I convince myself that I’m seeing something that isn’t really there. But I do not think I’m imagining what I see in Varian. I know there is something in him that can be saved. He is not like many of our other prisoners, who have been stewing in their own spite long past the point of reason.

There is still a light in him. And as long as that light remains, there is a chance that I might help him.

It’s hard, though, to overcome the anxiety that seizes me when I even so much as think of him. I cannot escape the feeling of my bones being crushed by the grip of his hand. I cannot escape the agony of watching my daughter suffer as I sat there in chains, helpless.

It is unlikely to think that I will ever recover from those traumas.

But my fear cannot hold me back right now. If I truly have faith in my own beliefs- that there is some salvageable light somewhere in Varian- I must remain strong.

I have devised a new course of action in reforming him. Frederic was not happy with my plan in the slightest, and at first denied me any permission to carry it out. But I reminded him of his word to our daughter, his assurance that Varian would get the help he needs, and he has begrudgingly made a compromise with me.

Today, I will see Varian again. I will walk into his cell, and I will offer him a chance that will take him one step closer to freedom. And then, if all goes well, when I walk out- he will be walking out with me.

* * *

 

Varian stares at Arianna, stunned. He’s just been offered freedom from the dungeon. Albeit, it’s to a confined room in the castle where he’ll still be closely guarded. But the idea of a real bed is tantalizing. He can count on one hand the hours he’s slept each night in prison.

“Why are you doing this for me? All I’ve done is- is _insult_ you and your _precious_ kingdom. And don't forget that I tried to murder you. Is that forgiven, too, Your Highness?” His voice is bitter, and thick with suspicion. Arianna keeps her composure despite it.

She straightens her shoulders. “No, Varian. But I’ve realized that I can’t very well expect to have an equal conversation with you while you’re still being treated like a criminal.”

“I am a criminal,” Varian says. “Or did you forget that?”

“Perhaps you are. Perhaps we can change that.”

Varian seems lost in thought for a moment. And then he crosses his arms tightly over his chest, and turns back towards the cell wall. “I refuse your offer, Your Highness,” he snaps. “I’d rather die in this godforsaken place than be taken pity on by you or your family.”

Arianna sighs. “I suppose I should make my final offer, then. If you accept, and I see good behavior in you long enough for me to properly trust you, I will allow you to conduct your... alchemy experiments within the castle walls.”

Varian’s eyes widen. He forgets his tense posture. “Wait, what?”

“With my personal supervision, of course.”

Varian seems to run the idea over in his head for a moment, and he rambles to himself as he thinks. “Alchemy… With that I could- no, no, that’s not going to help. I need the Sun Drop. I need Rapunzel. But she’s- and this prison- this could be my last chance to save my dad, I-,”

Varian looks up at Arianna, and his metallic eyes flash with something unexpectedly warm. Hope, Arianna recognizes.

“I accept.”

Arianna smiles, feeling a rush of relief and victory as the emotions well up in her chest. “Wonderful. Shall we lead you to your quarters now, then?”

Varian scowls. “Right now?”

“Unless you’re busy currently,” Arianna says with a coy grin.

Varian mutters some insult under his breath and rolls his eyes. But nonetheless, he stands up and follows Arianna out.

“Ruddiger.”

The Racoon chitters happily, climbing Varian’s lanky body like a tree and perching himself along the boy’s shoulders. Varian is checked once over for any makeshift weapons that might be on his person, and then shackled by his wrists.

“Sorry, Varian,” Davis mutters, offering Varian a sympathetic look as he locks the cuffs.

Varian only narrows his eyes. He stares at the floor as he makes his way out of the dungeons, the Queen and her guard behind him. He has not walked into freedom yet, and he knows this. But he has taken one step out of his seemingly doomed fate- and he's willing to accept that for now.


	2. Entries #5-#9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School's coming up! It's my first year of college and so my updates may take a hit (not that they were spectacular to begin with), but I know that I will 100% be able to complete this story, so bear with me!

Entry #5: A New Room

Varian’s quarters, while modest, are far nicer than the dungeon in terms of livableness. I had the guards block off the fireplace, and fit some old iron bars over the windows. The lock on the door has been reversed, so that the room can only be sealed or opened from the outside. The room is also subject to routine checks.

Frederic has pushed for Varian to require shackles while inside his room- but thankfully, I have managed to convince him otherwise. Davis has kindly volunteered to take night shifts at the boy’s door as the alternative. Personally, I am glad that I am not alone in pushing for Varian’s freedom. Even the little bits of help that Davis can provide is momentous.

I must remember to thank him when I get the chance.

I am not foolish, though, and I know that Varian has chosen to agree to my offer not out of a desire to redeem himself- but rather for the promised access to his chemicals. I only hope that sometime between now and then, I can get through to him.

In any case, the guards surely won’t take kindly to someone in dirty prisoner’s garbs walking about the castle, and so I ordered to have some new clothing brought for him as well. It’s nothing splendid- but at very least, he won’t be confused for an escaping prisoner. 

Despite his pride, Varian seems more than contented with his new quarters. I’ve allowed him to keep quills, ink, and parchment to busy himself with. I’ve also granted him permission to access that castle library- so long as he only takes out one book at a time.

Fredrick tells me that I am overwhelming him with good nature- that Varian will grow suspicious of my goodwill rather than fond of it.

Personally, I have never seen a child so happy to have a new pair of boots.

* * *

 

Entry #6: The First Week in the Castle

Despite Varian’s permission to roam about the castle so long as he is cuffed to a guard at all times, he seems to prefer isolating himself in his quarters. He causes very little trouble, though, so nobody is complaining much. He reads often, and only asks to be taken outside so that Ruddiger may get some exercise.

I have left most of the responsibility of watching him to Davis, who is more than glad to accept the task.

In the meantime, I have been working with the Captain to discuss the apparent ‘rotting’ food being served to our prisoners.

He accuses me of being too caring for them. I tell him that a petty thief does not deserve to suffer from mold-ingestion. We go at it for hours.

Ever since Varian has informed me of the rot that we are feeding to our prisoners, I have not slept well. I eat guilt-ridden. How can I eat fine meals while not more than a mile beneath me, our prisoners get ill from food-poisoning?

Perhaps the men and women in our prisons have done terrible things. But they are still human; a fact that proves difficult to remember when they are caged like animals.

* * *

 

Entry #7: A Hot Bath

Forget what I said about the shoes- I have never seen a child so happy to receive a hot bath. There is a twist in my chest when I think about his wide-eyed expression upon seeing it. I know they do not allow the prisoners to bathe. It must have been three weeks or more since Varian has been able to wash himself.

… I must take pause- sometimes I am so swept up in my empathy that I forget that this unfortunate child is the same criminal who nearly encased me in amber. The same boy who nearly murdered me, my daughter, and my guards.

I cannot afford to let my kindness weaken my guard. To do something like that would mean consequences. Consequences that I may not be equipped to fully handle.

* * *

 

“Your Highness, it’s… it’s hot,” Varian mutters. He’s leaning over the bath that Arianna is drawing him, watching as the rim of water rises against the porcelain walls of the basin. Steam curls delicately from it, fogging up the mirror on the opposite wall.

“It certainly is,” Arianna says, smiling.

Varian has an expression to him when he’s curious that contrasts his anger in every way. His eyebrows are loose and drawn up, and his eyes are wide. His mouth is slightly ajar, almost grinning with interest.

He gingerly tests the water with his bare hands, dipping his fingers up to the first knuckle before yanking them out at the temperature.

“That’s- that’s amazing! I’ve never seen hot, running water before. How do you do it at the castle? I-I tried to make a boiler system in my village so that we could-so that we could have it, but I miscalculated the margin of error and-,” he pauses, scrunching up his nose at the memory, and then says stiffly: “Thank you, Your Highness.”

There’s a warm feeling that creeps up Arianna’s chest at the expression of gratitude. It’s the first time Varian has used the honorific without bitterness behind it. Varian catches her kind gaze, and immediately clenches his jaw again, averting his eyes back to the water.

Arianna laughs a bit to herself and says playfully, “Allow me to tender a guess: this means nothing?”

Varian shoots her a half-hearted glare. “It means nothing.”

* * *

 

Entry #8: The Gift

Varian reads and studies more than a hungry scholar. Davis has been making trips to and from the library all day. He mostly reads scientific journals- thick, dusty books about alchemy and engineering. Sometimes he reads on Corona’s history- in a desperate attempt to find any hint that may cast some light to the origin of the black rocks.

I have told him many times that Rapunzel and her entourage are already seeking out the answer to the rocks. Varian only lashes out at her name, insults her, and fitfully demands to be left alone to do his ‘work’.

I personally think he works too hard. Genius or not- if he keeps running himself on steam like this, he’s bound to burn out eventually.

I had been shopping at the market recently, and I have purchased something for him that I thoroughly believe he’ll enjoy. Frederic is very adamant about Varian only being allowed to borrow one book at a time, but technically if the book _belongs_ to him, he shouldn’t need restrictions on it.

* * *

 

“Varian,” Arianna says, knocking on his door before pushing it open.

Varian hardly notices her as he paces about his room with his face tucked into the pages of a textbook titled ‘THE FUNDAMENTALS OF NATURE: IV’. He mutters to himself as he reads, his voice low and raspy with overuse.

“Varian,” Arianna says again, clearing her throat.

Varian pauses, eyes flickering up from his book for a moment. “Oh, hello, Your Highness. What, did His Majesty change his mind about hanging me?”

“That’s not it at all. It just looked like you need a break from your, ah… _work_. Have you been getting any sleep?” Arianna asks, eyeing Varian’s mussed hair and sunken eyes.

“I-I have been. Some.”

Varian runs a hand through his hair awkwardly, almost as if he’s trying to adjust a phantom pair of goggles out of neurosis (They had confiscated his goggles, apron, and gloves when they had put him behind bars. Arianna’s noticed that he’s made an anxious habit of pawing at his head or forearms, almost shocked when the familiar accessories are nowhere to be found).

“It’s none of your business anyways, Your Highness,” Varian huffs. “I’ve been holed up in the dungeon for a month with nothing even remotely mentally stimulating to busy myself with. I’d rather not waste any more of my time with something like sleep. Anyways, since I highly doubt you’re seriously only here because you apparently care about my wellbeing… what do you want?”

Arianna almost shoots back that she _does_ care, and that she wouldn’t be asking about it if she didn’t. But she knows that it’s hardly any use arguing with Varian when he’s already got his stubborn mind set on how the world’s supposed to be and how people are supposed to treat him.

“I bought you something from the market,” Arianna says. “I figured you might like something slightly less…” she glances at his textbook, “…intense.”

Varian rolls his eyes. “While it’s so _awesomely generous_ of you to spend your pocket change on me, you should know that I’m declining in advance. You’re not going to buy my obedience, Your Highness. I’m not some-,”

“Just _take_ it, Varian,” Arianna snaps.

The fact that he has already worn her patience shocks even her. She’s usually so good at being restrained around Varian. Perhaps she was just excited, and she let her disappointment get the best of her.

Arianna sighs and sets the book neatly on the corner of his desk. Varian glances down at it, and his eyes go wide.

It takes him only a second to mask his expression again with a feigned disinterest, but Arianna has already seen the joy in his face. Hiding it now can salvage only his pride, and nothing more.

“The- the _Tales of Flynnigan Rider_ ,” Varian says, taken aback. “W-well, it’s a nice gesture, Your Highness, but I highly doubt I’ll have time for it, what with my, uh, my work. So, if you- if you want to leave now that would be great. Because, you know, I’m busy. Yep. _Real_ busy.”

Arianna tries not to grin. “Of course. I’ll leave you to it.”

When she closes the door behind her, she can’t help but press her ear to the solid wood. There’s a moment of silence before she can hear the soft _thump_ of something heavy being dropped onto Varian’s bed, and things shifting on the desk. A light feeling floods her chest.

“The King’s not going to be too happy about this,” Stan says from his post at Varian’s door.

Arianna gives him a coy grin. “I suppose that’s a compromise we’ll have to accept, isn’t it?”

She hears a hardly-contained giggle from behind the door. Stan relents with a sigh.

“That must be one hell of a science textbook.”

* * *

 

Entry #9: Lunch

I am glad to report that Varian likes the book I bought for him, and has made quite a few not-so-subtle hints about desiring the rest of the series. The guards have reported that he’s much more pleasant to deal with when they deliver his food as well.

Unfortunately, he still does not eat much. He touches merely enough to not starve- and lets the rest of it sit out until the guards come to confiscate his plates and silverware.

I have asked him multiple times about this, and he has given me the same answer he commonly gives me when I inquire about his sleep: that he does not have time to ‘waste’ on things like sleep and food.

For that reason, I have invited him to lunch on the terrace with me. He accepted, begrudgingly, and perhaps it’s wishful thinking- but I can’t help but imagine it’s to show his gratitude for my gift.

* * *

 

Davis apologizes profusely as he chains Varian to one of the pillars on the terrace. The chain is just long enough for Varian to rest both his elbows on the circular table, but not quite enough for him to stretch it out past that.

“Captain’s orders,” Davis mutters, tugging on the iron chain links to ensure that they’ll hold fast.

Varian accepts the bonds without a fight, glancing down at the food on his plate with distaste. Arianna hopes that- with all his fuss about the rotted prison food- he won’t take the fresh meal in front of him for granted.

“You should eat. It’s why I invited you,” Arianna prompts.

Varian laughs dryly. “Oh? So, you didn’t just ask me to have lunch so that you could humiliate me with- with _this?”_ He rattles his chains aggressively, and then averts his eyes to the garden. “I could be working right now.”

“You’ll make yourself ill if you keep pushing yourself like that,” Arianna says, taking a bite of her food. She’s almost afraid of her next question, but she decides to risk asking: “What are you working on, anyways?”

“It’s nothing important to you,” Varian frowns.

“Maybe not. But I’m curious despite.”

Varian looks a little thrown at the Queen’s words. He looks back at her with those hard, metallic eyes of his and tries to read her face. He’s not used to people being interested in his projects just for the sake of knowing. He finds it unnerving, almost.

“I-,” Varian starts, unsure of why he’s feeling so meek as he explains. “Do- do you remember the boiler system I was talking about a while ago? I think I’ve devised a way to make it failsafe. The Flynnolium compound I made was too unstable so I was thinking about adding a chemical agent that would negate the combustion reaction if need-be.”

He almost looks proud of himself for a moment before frowning again. “But, of course, it’s just a mental exercise, really. There’s no Old Corona left for me to help, thanks to you and your kingdom.”

Arianna draws her brows in and sets her fork down. “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean? Are you serious? The _rocks,_ Your Highness!” Varian sneers. He goes to jab his finger at her, but the chain pulls taut and he’s yanked back. He winces as the iron cuff bites at his wrist. “They- they _ravaged_ my village. My people were forced to flee or die!”

Arianna steals a glance towards Davis. He bows his head in grief, and subconsciously tightens his grip on his halberd.

“Corona did _nothing_ to help,” Varian continues, his eyes growing angrier with every second. “You turned your back on me- _us-_ because the rocks weren’t your concern when they weren’t hurting you specifically. My dad lied to grant our people more land. He ran away from the problem, and-,” Varian takes in a shaky breath, and like that, all of his rash anger is dissolved. “-and now he’s gone.”

“Your father isn’t gone,” Arianna mutters. She only means to share a sentiment, but Varian takes her words literally.

“Oh, I know,” Varian says. “He’s not gone. Because I’m going to find a way to save him. You can try all you want to win me over, Your Highness, but no amount of clothes, or food, or books is going to change me. I’m cooperating to get back to my experiments and that’s it.”

Arianna sighs. “I suggest you eat, then. You’ll want your strength.”

Varian does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who gave this story a read, kudos, bookmark, or review! It means the world!


	3. Entries #10-#15

Entry #10: Escape

I should have known this was bound to happen.

It has been a month since I have placed Varian in the castle. He has been complacent and quiet- though I now realize that his withdrawnness is not technically a good thing. Having so much time to himself to think only serves to make him restless.

It is out of pure chance that I caught him sneaking through the courtyard in the middle of the night.

At first, I was too confused to be properly upset. Guards are supposed to be stationed at his room at every hour of the day and night- and when he leaves his room, they’re supposed to escort him out. I was initially more concerned that he’d somehow hurt one of our guardsmen in the process of running away.

But when I returned him to his room, (he had thrown a fit, but had no weapons on him and thus it was no more difficult than I’d imagine dragging any teenager anywhere might be) I was surprised to find Davis still standing there, dubious of the escape that had happened right beneath his nose.

I must talk to him about his dangerous level of trust for Varian. This cannot happen again.

* * *

 

“Davis,” Arianna prompts. Her royal guard turns around and stands at the ready. “I’d like you to come with me. We need to have a discussion.”

Davis nods, “Of course, Your Highness.”

They walk in a tense silence up to Arianna’s study, and they close the door behind them to discourage the wandering noise of their conversation from reaching unwanted attention. Arianna has an unreadable expression- one that is cloaked over by her royal dignity.

“So, what did you require of me, Your Highness?” Davis asks.

“Why did you let Varian leave his room alone last night?” Arianna demands back.

“Your Highness, the boy simply needed to use the restroom down the halls. I thought it would be okay if I exercised some trust,” Davis explains.

Arianna sighs. “Davis, I forbid you to do that again. Varian is not to be left to walk the halls of this castle unattended.”

“With all due respect, Your Highness, I don’t believe he would do anything rash. I lived among him for all of his life in Old Corona. I know him better than anyone else here.”

Arianna stares at Davis. The young guard has a set jaw and clear eyes. He seems to be almost _challenging_ her- but to what, she does not know.

She’s found herself in a tough space. On one hand, she feels the need to justify her orders with Varian’s actions. On the other- she knows that if she tells Davis that Varian has escaped, he will be obligated to tell the Captain. Not only will Davis get demoted- Varian may also get punished.

She can’t let that happen. So, she only sighs, and puts a firm hand on Davis’ shoulder in a silent show of command.

“I know you want me to trust him, Davis. I want to trust him as well. But I need your word that you will under no circumstances leave him unattended to again,” Arianna says.

Davis seems to swallow a comment before nodding submissively. “Y-yes, Your Highness. Of course. You have my word.”

* * *

 

Entry #11: Busywork

Varian’s escape attempt has got me more worried than ever about the amount of time he has to keep to himself in his quarters. I need to find a way to busy him, and keep him from his ceaseless plotting.

Therefore, I have assigned him duties with some of our ladies-in-waiting. It is an experimental plan on my part, but I have made certain that he is only permitted to do certain tasks, and that he is flanked by two guardsmen as he does them.

Varian’s escape was a product of too much trust, and too little suspicion. If I’m effective in reforming him, I must still be vigilant in remaining impartial myself. I do not know how effective menial chores will be in placating his constant stream of thought, but if they can distract him for even a moment’s time, I will accept it. For now, at least.

* * *

 

Entry #12: A Slight Improvement

Astoundingly, Varian has responded well to the new chores. It has been one week since I have put him up to them, and in that week, I have seen a marked improvement in his attitude. He seems to enjoy the structure of having scheduled work-times, as well as the ability to do something physically productive. It is also the only time he is able to be outside of his room without his shackles.

I had feared that his temper and curtness would upset the maids, but to my surprise, he gets along with our ladies-in-waiting nicely. He has a knack for efficiency, and enjoys showing off in front of them.

Since beginning his new duties, the Captain has been commenting to me that it might be damaging for Varian to do so much ‘women’s work’ (a funny stance, considering his daughter), and has requested that I allow the boy to be sent down to the barracks at night to help the guards with polishing the weaponry. I had asked him, shock-stricken, why he trusted Varian with a weapon.

He had responded nonchalantly that Varian was an “inexperienced child”, and with no access to machinery or alchemy, he would be “helpless even with the hilt of a sword in his hands”.

I suppose he is right- in a room full of experienced guards, Varian would not stand a chance if he were to act out.

* * *

 

Entry #13: A Somber Word

Another week has since passed since Varian has been doing duties around the castle. Occasionally, I watch over him as he makes up rooms or folds laundry. He has started to share moments of small-talk with me, in which time I have learned that when he is not interrupted by his own shortness, he can be quite inquisitive and sensitive.

For example, while I was watching him wipe down a some of our mirrors, I noticed that he was using long, up-and-down motions. I corrected him, explaining that he needed to use circular motions instead so as not to cause streaking. Though my fix was not a criticism in any way, he seemed to take it as a hit to his pride, and got defensive immediately.

“What do you know?” he had said. “You’re royalty. Nobody asks you to lift a finger.”

I had calmly replied that my mother had been a largely independent and hardworking woman, and had made sure that I knew personally how to do all the tasks usually left to the ladies-in-waiting.

Varian had gone a bit quiet at that, and had muttered bitterly under his breath, “Well, I’m sorry I can’t share your experience then, Your Highness.”

I’d pushed the topic- not much, but just enough to keep him talking- and asked him what he meant by that.

Varian had frowned and taken his sponge back to the mirror, this time performing the circular motions that I had asked of him and said, “My mom died when I was young. I never got to know her.”

Even relaying his somber words down on paper sends a frightening twist into my gut. There was something so melancholy and low in his voice, I…

… what I feel is irrelevant. I must not lose sight of my goal. I must not let myself be clouded by these emotions he is eliciting from me.

I must stay focused.

* * *

 

Entry #14: Distrust 

Oh, what a terrible night!

After hearing word that Varian had helped the ladies with cleaning the kitchen before dinner, Frederic displayed what I can only express as a tantrum. He ordered the guards to throw out every bit of food and drink on the table. The kitchen was cleaned again, putting the staff behind on their duties for the night. Every ounce of food held in the kitchen was to be trashed and replaced.

He also personally had a discussion with Varian (one which I was not able to attend, as I was too busy consoling the ladies), and marched off to his quarters for the night.

Frederic has very little trust in Varian. I know this, and I do not blame him for it. I would like more than anything to have a calm talk with my husband about his outburst- and perhaps even find a common ground with his worries. But instead, I must go and speak to Varian.

* * *

 

Varian is lying on his bed when Arianna walks in, his back to the door. His skinny arms are wrapped tightly around his thin frame, and Arianna can see his body quake with stuttered breaths.

“Varian?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Varian snaps. His voice wavers as he speaks, and Arianna can’t help but notice how impossibly _young_ he sounds. “I couldn’t. Where does _his majesty_ even think I can get poison?”

Arianna sighs and shuts the door behind her. “My husband acted extreme, I agree,” Arianna says. “He still doesn’t trust you, Varian. He won’t for a long time.”

“I don’t know wh-,”

“You know why, Varian,” Arianna says firmly. He flinches at her tone, submitting.

“Still, not trusting me and being- being illogical are two different things entirely. I mean, e-even if I were to do something like that, the ladies-in-waiting would have stopped me, o-or-,”

“Varian, stop it. You know my husband has many reasons not to trust you. Perhaps he acted rashly, but he only did so because he wants what is best for the ones he loves. He acts only with good intentions.”

At that comment, Varian lets out a short, broken laugh. “And I don’t?”

* * *

 

Entry #15: An Unjust Punishment

Frederic has taken to punishing Varian for the incident at dinner two nights ago even though the boy has not committed a crime to speak of. He’s paranoid now about Varian’s free-roam of the castle. I have begged him countless times to reconsider his actions, but he is unmoving.

By his new orders, Varian now has limited times by which he is permitted to leave his room: for two hours in the evening, and thirty minutes in the morning. He has also demanded that Varian be cuffed at all times- even while in his room. The chain connected to the cuff is so short, Varian has to stretch his arm over the surface of his desk to sit at it comfortably.

Varian seems to resent this treatment. I cannot find it in me to blame him.

When I am not pleading with my husband to ease up on Varian’s restrictions, I meet with the Captain of the Guard and discuss the conditions of our prisons.

The Captain has confessed to me that our country is currently facing shortages in grain, making it unreasonable for us to waste what thin resources we have on the prisoners. Since grain is an import from Old Corona under tax, I’m not surprised.

Varian has several drawings of Old Corona stuffed under his work table. He draws with a level of accuracy that I am impressed by- but the horrific imagery is enough to make my skin crawl.

At the face I’d made upon looking at one of these drawings, Varian only shrugged and kicked the artwork back under his desk. “Putting it down on paper kind of helps me from keeping it all in my head,” he confessed. “It’s hard to draw it, but it’s easier this way.”

I think of the millions of drawings my dear daughter, Rapunzel, has made in secret- of her nightmares, and of the tower she had been held captive in for years, and of the horrible woman who had kept her there- and I think I understand him, if only a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left a read, a kudos, a bookmark, or a comment!


	4. Entries #16-#19

Entry #16: Confrontation

I have approached the topic of Varian’s treatment to Frederic. My husband, as he typically is, was stubborn and unmoving in his decision. Though he took the time to patiently listen to my concerns, he was quick to dismiss each one of them. I love him dearly, but even the Captain can see that what he’s doing to Varian is cruel and unusual.

I have seen Varian through the crack in his ajar door testing the strength of the iron bars on his window and fiddling with his oil lamp. I fear that if we continue to treat him like this- like a prisoner- he will take on a prisoner’s instinct: to be free at any cost.

I do wish Frederic would not so quickly assume me as naïve.

“That boy is a danger,” Frederic had said not minutes ago.

I replied back, “Not yet, but at this rate, he is going to be.”

* * *

 

“It’s not as bad as it seems,” Arianna says (she does not believe her own words, but she can’t let Varian know that).

“Oh, how kind of you, Your Highness! I could be rotting in a dirty basement cell. Instead, I get the pleasure of rotting in splendor,” Varian snaps.

Varian turns his attention away from her as he paces around his room restlessly. The skin that meets the iron shackle on his wrist is red and raw. The chain links clatter as they’re dragged across the stone floor.

“My husband-,”

“He’s scared of me! I know he is,” Varian snarls. “I know too much about his little conspiracy, and so he’s scared of me. I could cause an- an _uprising_ if I wanted to. I could bring Corona down. I’m dangerous, so I can’t be trusted.”

Arianna sighs. She has the strange urge to reach forward and caress his cheek, as she had done in the few times before that Rapunzel had come to her in distress. Instead, she only shakes her head. “You were doing so good, Varian,” she murmurs.

“Yes! I was! I was doing _good_. And like every other time I’ve tried to be good before, I got to see just where those kinds of intentions land you.” Varian raises his arms up in distress, almost brandishing the cold iron cuff circled around his wrist. “Your Highness, I’m starting to think that ‘good’ is biased to the people in power.”

Varian’s outburst incites some fear in Arianna- a fear which makes her feel almost glad that he is chained like a dog (and then almost immediately guilty after). But despite that emotion, she can’t help but perceive a misery in Varian’s anger.

She sits on his bed, next to where the chain’s end is fixed into the wall, and offers for Varian to sit next to her. Varian declines, wanting instead to march about his small room and rant. Arianna glances down, only to find a piece of parchment under her foot- it seemed to be halfway stuffed under the bed, as if Varian had not had enough time to hide it fully.

As soon as Arianna realizes what that paper details, she feels her heart sink.

It’s a map of the castle, and an analysis of the guard’s routes.

Varian is planning to escape.

* * *

 

Entry #17: The Capture

I had warned Frederic that Varian’s likelihood of acting out would only increase should he be ever more confined. There is some satisfaction to be gained in knowing that I had been right.

Varian had, in the midst of the night, picked the lock on his cuff with one of his quill tips. He’d eased past Pete and Stan during a bout of their bickering, and had made his way towards a passageway of secret tunnels below the castle to perform his escape. Thankfully, since I had seen the plan beforehand, I had been ready to wait for him.

Davis and I were poised to catch him as soon as he had arrived at the tunnels beneath the castle.

Varian, the poor convict, appeared as if he wanted to cry when he caught sight of us. He lashed out in desperation, throwing himself at Davis like a rabid animal in an attempt to fight his way to freedom.

But Davis was a trained guard, and Varian was a malnourished, sleep-deprived boy. There was hardly a fight to speak of. We returned him to his room, and re-tied him, confiscating every thin, pick-like item in his room. Davis insisted that we lock him with both arms to the headboard, the chains just short enough to keep his hands from being able to reach one another.

Varian had sneered at this set up: “I can still pick the lock with my teeth.”

Davis and I chose to ignore it.

I made Davis swear a vow of silence on the matter, knowing that should Frederic find out- he would surely have Varian transported back to the basement. Ah, I cover too much for this boy!

In any matter, I praised my soldier before sending him off for the night. Davis replied with something that has echoed so deeply into my heart, I raced to my study instantly after to record it. He said:

“The Captain tells us that we’re not being paid to think. But compassion is pay in itself, Your Highness. Don’t you agree?”

I must say- I do.

* * *

 

“Arianna, why did my men report that Varian had been tied up double over the course of the night?” Frederic asks. He’s standing by the closed window, eyes shut and brow drawn in.

Arianna doesn’t even hesitate before saying, “Davis watched him past two, Your Highness. He thought extra security might be needed.”

Frederic nods solemnly. “While I care deeply for our safety, I think that extra precaution might be too much. See to it that the second chain is cut by midnight, dear.”

There’s a moment of silence in which Arianna only stares at her husband in awe of his words. Frederic grips her hands in his own, and Arianna can feel the anxious tremors that tear through them. Despite, his face is still firm. “I still don’t trust him as you do,” Frederic says. “But he is just a boy.”

Arianna feels her chest tighten. She doesn’t know why.

* * *

 

Entry #18: A Precautionary Measure

I have been worried about Varian ever since his last escape attempt. Especially now, since he has every opportunity to again pick his own locks- unbeknownst to my dear husband.

I have started to stay with him in his room at night to perhaps discourage him from trying anything sneaky. It works- though while I am in the room, he does little else but harass me in an attempt to get me to leave.

However, I have already heard one thousand unkind words from Varian. One thousand more won’t hurt me.

* * *

 

Entry #19: Fever

It has been one week since I have taken up my vigilant chore of keeping Varian company at night. Sometime between then and now, however, it seems that Varian has come down with a deathly fever, and my duties have shifted from preventing his escape to tending his illnesses.

I suppose all the lack of sleep and food is finally catching up to him.

He does little else but sleep and attempt (in vain) to work. He has no energy to bemoan my presence, or trade sarcasms with the guardsmen. Ruddiger is often curled up right on top of him, purring softly on his chest to comfort him.

Right now, I am sitting at his desk chair and watching over him as he rests. He has been sleeping rather fitfully these past few nights, and often wakes up for periods at a time in deluded hysterics. I do not know how to help hi-

* * *

 

Varian screams.

Arianna slams her journal shut and rushes to his bedside. He scrambles upright in his haze, not even registering the cuff around his arm as he clumsily tries to pull himself out of bed. His eyes race around the room, and they look unfocused and faraway. Ruddiger chitters and paws at the boy's arm, but Varian hardly registers it.

“Where is he?” Varian demands, his voice hoarse. “Where’s my dad?”

“Your father?” Arianna asks softly, gently pushing down on his shoulders to keep him from lurching up and hurting himself.

Varian’s eyes fall upon Arianna’s and they fixate on her. “Rapunzel!” He cries, and his face breaks out into a pitiful expression of relief. “I’m- I’m so glad you’re here. My- my dad, he’s- you have to help him. You’re the only one w-who has any chance of saving him. _Please,_ Rapunzel.”

Arianna frowns as Varian searches her face for any sign of agreement. Varian shivers from his fever, and he coughs hard into his arm.

“Varian,” Arianna says softly. She debates telling him the truth before quickly realizing that angering him in a state like this might prove a poor decision for her own safety. So instead, she smiles as warmly as she can and eases him back down on the bed.

“Varian, you need to rest before we can save him,” Arianna says.

“No, I- I know we can save him if we hurry. He doesn’t have much time, I-,” Varian’s voice shatters like breakaway glass. “I don’t know what to do without him. I’m scared.”

A sadness wells up in Arianna’s chest that she has to force into submission. She runs her fingers through his hair, pushing his bangs back from his sweat-soaked forehead. “I know you’re scared. It’s warm in the castle, though. You’ll be safe here.”

“I don’t need to be safe, I need to- I can’t disappoint him again. I have to prove that I can do something right. I can’t sleep until I do something right,” Varian mutters, though his resolve is already crumbling to his exhaustion. He's still frantic, but his movements are feeble and helpless. Ruddiger crawls on to Varian's lap and kneads at his leg in an attempt to ground him. Varian relaxes, resting his fingers in Ruddiger's fur and combing through it subconsciously. 

Arianna is thankful for the raccoon. She almost wonders how many times Ruddiger has done this exact routine before to keep Varian from the verge of breakdown. The answer she comes to isn't comforting. 

“You’ve done everything you could,” Arianna says, and she shivers at the ‘everything’ Varian has done for his father’s sake. She welcomes the fresh wave of fear, though. It keeps an emotion much more dangerous at bay- empathy.

Varian breaths fall heavy now, and his eyelids are closed again. He looks younger than he ever has before, even with his face twisted in pain. A sound breaks his lips- a mere whisper that Arianna could have missed had she been any less observant.

He says, “Rapunzel, I’m sorry.”

Arianna’s heart breaks.

* * *

 

Entry #19 Fever (Cont’d)

…I do not know how to help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for anyone who has given this story a read, review, kudos, or bookmark! I am eternally grateful!


	5. Entries #20-#23

Entry #20: Letters

I have received a letter from Rapunzel.

My dearest daughter- I miss her with all of my heart. I have been preoccupied as of late with Varian and the Captain, but that does not mean I do not spend every moment free of that preoccupation worrying and yearning for her safe arrival back into the kingdom.

She writes to me about her adventures- and though it gives me anxiety beyond measure to know that she lives in constant threat of danger, it is at the same time a great relief to find that she is happy and doing what she has always wanted to do- explore the world, and learn more than she ever could behind Corona’s walls.

She is warm and kind in her writings, and she tells me that she misses me. I miss her too.

But she also criticizes my new undertaking. She has warned me with great urgency to not allow Varian with any potential to work in alchemy. She mentions horrible visions, many of which have sent chills down my spine. She writes:

_“I saw Varian, holding Dad by the chin and experimenting on him with some evil potion. I fear that this is a sign that he absolutely cannot be trusted. The evil look in his eyes, Mom- oh, it was full of the worst hatred I have ever seen!”_

With that image in mind, it is hard for me to still promise Varian the opportunity to work in alchemy. But I cannot go back on my promise to him. I refuse to.

I wrote three pages of rebuttals- but I decided to put them in my desk drawer instead of sending them.

I will not argue with my daughter when she is already so burdened with the weight of her quest. Now, more than ever, she needs the peace of mind to know that her mother is on her side. In my letter back to her, I remind her that I love her with all my heart- and I promise to keep my guard up around Varian.

* * *

 

Entry #21: Into Town

I have been more anxious than ever since Rapunzel’s last letter to me- and it has been showing in my actions. I continually swing between sympathizing with Varian and distrusting him more than ever like an indecisive pendulum.

To lay my own thoughts to rest, I have decided to test him. I am going into town this afternoon, and I will be taking Varian with me. Should he try and pull any tricks, I will finally assert that he should not have access to an alchemy lab.

* * *

 

Entry #22: Protection from Whom?

Currently, Varian is sitting across from me in the carriage on our way to town. I would not typically write before him in this manner, but I have noticed something strange, and I want to record the moment as accurately as possible.

In Varian’s chambers, when I asked him to accompany me to town, he seemed reluctant. Not in a disinterested way- but almost _fearful_. In fact, when I informed him that Pete, Stan, and Davis would be on duty with us, I was speaking in more of a comforting tone than a cautionary one.

He agreed after a moment of convincing; however, I believe that I have drastically misunderstood the role of my royal guards on this outing.

I had foolishly assumed that I would require them to defend the townspeople should Varian act out. I had not realized that they were needed for the exact opposite of that reason.

* * *

 

The townspeople glare at Varian.

They do it subtly, because they can see that they boy is being escorted by Arianna’s will. But they sneer and shoot disapproving glares whenever they think she is not looking. Varian tries to keep his eyes focused on the cobblestone beneath his feet.

“Your Highness, I want to leave,” Varian mutters.

“I thought you would enjoy being outside the castle walls?” Arianna furrows her brow, turning from a vendor’s booth to look at Varian.

“What, is this some kind of-of power move? To show me that I’m better off in captivity where I’m safe?”

“Pardon?”

“I get it, okay? Corona hates me. There’s nowhere safe for me here. Can we go?”

Arianna sighs. “You attacked my kingdom and attempted regicide. Do you expect the people of Corona to take something like that lightly?”

“Corona’s hated me since the snowstorm,” Varian sneers. “Don’t act like this is new.”

Arianna’s patience is wearing thin. She stiffens her jaw and forces herself to keep composed. “The snowstorm? You mean when you attacked my daughter?”

“I didn’t attack her!” Varian yells.

His outburst causes a few townspeople to gawk. A mother puts a protective hand over her son, calls Varian some awful name, and hurries away. Varian shrinks into his own body, grabbing the chain to his shackle as if it is a blessing rather than a curse.

“I didn’t! N-not during the snowstorm- I,” Varian sighs, his breath shaky. “I was asking for _help_ and- and I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Arianna frowns, her anger dissolving. When she and Frederic had returned from the snowstorm, they had only gotten reports that Varian had broken into the castle, lunged violently at Rapunzel, and swore revenge at her the entire time he was being carried out.

Rapunzel had admitted that he’d come to her in desperation, but Arianna had assumed that her daughter was only trying to see the best in Varian.

Townspeople stare at Arianna as she mulls this over in her head. She knows that they have been eavesdropping- rather poorly at that- and she cannot do anything rash in their gaze. Nor does she feel as if she can question Varian further with confidentiality.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Arianna says. “Right now, I’d like for you to help the guards carry these sacks of grain to the carriage.”

* * *

 

Entry #23: Questioning

Immediately after coming home and securing Varian in his chambers, I made my way to Nigel. I wanted to get his record of the events during the snowstorm straight so that I had some frame of reference to question Varian with.

Nigel mostly repeated what I assumed to be the common knowledge.

_“He shoved his way in, the brute. Forced his way past the guards and raced into the castle’s strategy room, where the Princess and several of the townspeople had taken shelter. He tackled our poor, beloved Princess, grabbed her by the shoulders, and pushed her into the hallway to make a series of demands. Thankfully, the guards caught up with them fairly quickly, and saved the Princess from him before he could harm her.”_

I am going now to ask Varian about his recollection. Hopefully, I will find some sliver of truth between both parties. Either way, I will get to the bottom of this.

* * *

 

Arianna sits on Varian’s bed with him at night.

“I want you to tell me about the snowstorm,” Arianna says.

Varian grits his teeth. “Why does it matter, Your Highness? Whether you listen to me now or not- it doesn’t change the fact that nobody listened to me _then_. When I needed it.”

He looks like a pouting child. Arianna must force herself to remember that he is so much more dangerous than his face implies.

Arianna clears her throat and speaks regally, “Varian, I would like you to have a future within the walls of Corona. And if that is to happen, we must set the record straight.” She pauses, afraid for a moment that she’s given the boy too much credit. “If there is a record to set straight, I mean.”

“What if I don’t want a future in Corona?” Varian says.

“Then you deserve the option to change your mind.”

Varian sighs. He presses his fingers to his forehead and massages it in exasperation. “Fine. I’ll tell you my version of things. Since you bothered to care. Before the snowstorm, my father plead to the King for more land.”

“I recall,” Arianna says. “Quirin reported that Old Corona had yielded an abundance of crops that season.”

“My father lied,” Varian snaps. “Truth is, our village was dying. Those black rocks were making it impossible to live there any longer. And-and I told Rapunzel this, because I thought at the time that if there was anyone worth trusting, it was her. I should have known better. She promised me that she would help me fix things, and like a _fool_ , I believed her.”

“When my father became encased in the amber, I trekked through that blizzard to the castle, and was promptly refused entry past the doors. But I was desperate, so I pushed through guards and ran until I found Rapunzel. Your Highness, I _begged_ your daughter on my hands and knees for the aid that she had promised me not a day earlier. And for my moment of weakness, I was apprehended by your guards and thrown out into the storm to die.”

“Rapunzel had to think about her kingdom, Varian. Corona was under a threat large enough to require evacuation to the mainland.”

“Fine! Maybe she needed to be right there right then,” Varian sneered. “But months passed, and not so much as a guard came to find me. I received no word from Rapunzel. Eventually, conditions got too bad for anyone to live in old Corona, and so my village left me. I was alone, and cold, and hungry- so I went to the kingdom in hopes to find shelter. But do you want to know what happened then, Your Highness?”

Arianna is tentative to nod.

Varian twists his face in rage and squeezes his fists into tight balls. “I was rejected and harassed and _attacked_ because rumor had spread that I’d attacked the Princess. I was a criminal before I even did anything wrong. I tried to plead my case, but nobody listened. So obviously, I had to make them.”

Arianna gazes at the torn boy. She wonders how skewed his truth his- if he is trying to elicit her pity with fabrications and lies. But she knows that there’s no reason for him to do something like that. He doesn’t care if he’s seen as redeemable in the eyes of Corona. He doesn’t care enough to do anything but tell the truth.

“It’s your fault I’m here,” Varian mutters. “And I’m not just talking about you, Your Highness. I’m talking about all of Corona. It’s your fault for turning your backs on me when the only thing I wanted to do was help.”

“You planned to destroy Corona,” Arianna says. The chill in her voice surprises her.

“I wanted to _save_ Corona!” Varian snarls. “There was nothing more important to me than this kingdom! I respected you! I _revered_ your family! I cared so much for this country’s wellbeing. But all it took was that one snowstorm to make me realize that Corona never cared about people like me back. This isn’t my fault, Your Highness. None of it is.”

“What about the flower?” Arianna demands frantically. Her face feels warm.

For some reason, hearing Varian’s side of the story makes the hair on her neck stand up, and a twist form in her gut. She feels uncomfortable. Overthrown.

Varian looks at her for a moment. He takes in her torn expression. He could tear her down with words right now, and he knows it. But instead, he only smirks in sad victory and turns his head.

“What, you’re going to demonize me for that? Don’t you remember, Your Highness? Your King stole it first.”

 


	6. Entries #24-#25

Entry #24: Torn

I have been split since hearing Varian’s account of events. Nigel has insisted that common knowledge is the truth, but my doubts have already been set.

My anxieties have been worsened still by my beloved husband, who has since admitted that he ignored the epidemic in Old Corona in an attempt to avoid inciting panic. I understand his motives, but his course of action seems almost dismissive.

To speak technically, Varian _is_ the vassal of Old Corona now since his father is… unable to command leadership. If our kingdom truly did turn its back on our sister country, then he has every justification to secede and declare war.

I have been mulling these new truths and complications over and over again in my mind constantly. The only peace I receive these days is when I busy myself with the servants- the grain I bought from the market is being made into bread rolls for the prisoners.

It seems laughable to admit that unspoiled food is new to our prison. For a civilized country, we do act like godless barbarians to our fellow men sometimes. Thankfully, I have started to sway the Captain of the guard to my reasoning. He will help me pass out the rolls tomorrow afternoon.

* * *

 

The Captain throws the first roll into the cell of a petty thief. The prisoner furrows his brow as he gingerly reaches forward and takes the food in his palm.

“It in’t dinnertime yet,” he says, sniffing the bread. “Summat fishy going on, eh?”

“No. It’s a treat- courtesy of her highness,” the Captain says sternly. “Show some gratitude.”

“Aye, Your Highness,” the thief hums. “It’s soft.”

Arianna smiles kindly. “Go ahead,” she coaxes. “Eat it. It’s all yours.”

The prisoner uses the fabric of his tunic to clean the roll before taking a tentative bite. He breaks out into a big smile as soon as the warm bread touches his lips.

“Your Highness,” the thief says, unable to iron out the wide grin on his lips. “Many thanks.”

Arianna catches the expression in the Captain’s face, and takes it as a new victory. She bows politely and clasps her hands together behind her back.

“It’s my pleasure.”

* * *

 

Entry #25: Breaching the Walls

Since my last discussion with Varian, the boy seems more at-peace than I have ever seen him. I can’t imagine that he’s ever told his entire story to another soul. It still seems unwise to challenge the common knowledge against the word of one boy, but I continue to think about it despite, and eventually, it becomes easier to ponder.

And the more I ponder, the more I feel as though I have grown complacent in my role as Queen. Looking through my older journals from when I was no older than Rapunzel’s age- I had been so ambitious as a girl. I was certain that if there could be any change in the world, it would be by my hands. And now I have all the power I need to make such a change- and I am too attached to the status quo to even try.

But no more of that. I wish not to whine and complain over wasted potential.

I have realized that to change the world, I must first change myself. I must invest myself more deeply into my kingdom’s politics and righting the wrongs of my husband.

And with this new initiative, I have decided to take my first course of action with Varian. More precisely, I have asked him to show me Old Corona.

We leave tomorrow at dawn. I fear what I may see there, but if fear is my only obstacle, I suppose I must consider myself a lucky woman indeed.

* * *

 

“We’re here,” Varian announces. “Old Corona.”

The three of them- Varian, Arianna, and Davis- step out of the carriage. Behind them, Stan and Pete stand guard.

Arianna gasps as she takes sight of the black rocks that have taken over the city. Arianna can still see the torn scraps of rooftops and oxcarts pierced through them. In the far distance, she can just make out a child’s doll, pierced through the heart on the tip of an onyx spike.

“Was it always this bad?” Arianna asks.

Varian sighs. “Yes.”

If Arianna looks towards the large wall that surrounds the outskirts of Old Corona, and looks hard, she can see broken scraps of machinery that had once belonged to automatons. They terrify her. She grips tightly to Davis’ arm, and pushes down the feeling of metal binds crushing her ribcage.

Davis holds her firmly, though he looks just as haunted. “It looked about like this when I had finally packed up, too.”

“There’s more land out west,” Varian says bleakly. “That’s where most of them ran off too, I’m pretty sure. But nowhere is safe from those rocks. They’ll have to move again soon, if they haven’t already.”

“You didn’t go with them?” Arianna asks.

“They didn’t want me to,” Varian shrugs. He stares at his boots as they trek across the arid, dead land. “And I wouldn’t have gone anyways. I refuse to run from my problems like… like _they_ did.”

Davis twitches at that statement. He frowns and scrunches up his nose. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“I didn’t mean you,” Varian amends. “You went to Corona to fix things. Like me.”

“Yes,” Davis says, narrowing his eyes. “Like you.”

Arianna can’t help but be astounded by the destruction around her. She asks persistently if her husband had done anything to protect the city or its inhabitants. She remembers overhearing that Fredrick had claimed to have removed the rocks entirely. She would never have assumed her husband a liar, but the malevolent spikes around her are damning evidence.

Varian frowns and fiddles with the cuffs around his hands. “Your Highness, I want to go to my lab.”

It takes a moment for Arianna to comprehend the gesture as pleading. She glances warily at Varian. Though she’s fairly certain that he poses no true threat, the slim chance that he does sends sparks of distrust through her heart.

“Stan and Pete can come,” Varian adds. “I just- I want my- I want to see my dad.”

Arianna feels the memory of Varian’s fever-induced nightmare strike her a bit too hard. She can’t help but perceive the boy as a scared child, and she wants to hit herself for her cursed empathy.

She folds like a pair of twos in a game of poker. “I suppose that can be arranged.”

Arianna allows Varian to lead the party to his lab. Stan and Pete flank him on either side, and Davis has his crossbow at the ready.

As they approach the lab, the wreckage from the Battle of Old Corona becomes gorier and clearer. The broken automatons look restless- as if they could burst back to life at any moment.

Arianna can’t stop the sob that only barely breaks out of her throat. Varian looks back- and she turns her head to avoid his gaze. She can’t look into his eyes right now. She can’t.

As they descend into the lab, Varian eyeballs the old familiar stone. He warns the guards as they touch the final step that there’s a tripwire only three paces ahead that’s still set up. The guards take care to avoid it.

Arianna tries to ignore the familiar crawl of fear in her spine as her eyes rest on the spot where she had been cuffed at the ankles. A shard of amber engulfs the broken chain now. A shard that could have also engulfed her.

Varian drops to his knees in front of a large amber stone in the middle of the room. Upon closer inspection, Arianna can see Quirin there, suspended in animation. His face is grief-stricken, and his body reaches desperately for the surface.

“Dad,” Varian whispers.

“Varian, how did this happen?” Arianna asks, feeling just brave enough to speak without her voice quaking.

She has to push away the memory of Varian’s smooth, cruel voice as he had knelt next to her and threatened her daughter.

_“Oh, so now you care about what I want? And all it took as threatening the things you care about the most.”_

It’s like a tangible memory- like she can almost hear it. It’s almost too much.

Almost.

“I-I,” Varian shrinks down. He stares at the translucent amber listlessly. “It wasn’t my fault.” He speaks with conviction, though he seems to edge on desperate as he continues. “It’s- it’s _her_ fault. Her and-and those stupid rocks. She said that we were going to figure them out together and she lied. She never cared, she- _she-!”_

Varian’s voice escalates into a roar, and he slams his hand into the amber. Stan readies his spear. Arianna forces herself not to flinch. She can’t speak. Her mouth has gone dry, and her bones have frozen. She is helpless- almost as trapped in utter stillness as Quirin.

“I didn’t do anything- I didn’t mean- it’s not my fault, it’s _not_.” Varian rambles, his voice quaking. “And dad _lied_ and if he’d just been honest, if-if he’d just trusted me, then-,” Varian smashes his hands against the amber stone. “I wouldn’t have- I was- he was just trying to protect me and it- it,”

Varian cries.

Stan lowers his spear, and looks on at Varian with something almost akin to satisfaction. It’s cathartic to see a villain reduced to the pathetic submission of tears.

But Arianna can’t see a villain, as hard as she tries. She can only see a boy. A heartbroken, defeated, hopeless boy.

“Varian?” She murmurs. She kneels next to him, daring to settle her hand on his cheek. She almost expects him to bat it away, but he accepts the touch without protest.

Then, eyes red, chest heaving, and snot running down his nose, Varian chokes out: “It should have been me.”

“Oh, Varian,” Arianna sighs. She pulls the boy close- draws him into her chest despite Stan’s protests. If there’s any time for Varian to hurt her, it’s now. It’s now, when she’s so ready to hold him that she forgets her own mortality. When she closes her eyes, releases her defenses, and simply trusts him.

He could hurt her. He could act on his hatred. He could finish what he started at the Battle of Old Corona.

But he doesn’t. He just cries.

“It should- it should have been me. I- I wasn’t watching, and my arm- and the compound-,” Varian’s hands grip at Arianna’s gown tightly for a purchase. “It’s _mine_ \- it’s my fault- I should- I deserve to be there instead of him.”

“Do you truly think that’s what Quirin would want?” Arianna says.

She pulls away to look Varian in his eyes. They’re bloodshot, and blurry with tears. But past the murk of his sorrow, Arianna suddenly realizes that they’re not steel-colored at all. They’re blue. Pale blue.

Varian wipes his nose on his arm. “I don’t know, Your Highness,” he mutters, finally defeated. He glances at his shackles, then at his father, and then lastly at Arianna. “Do you think he’d want _this?”_


	7. Entries #26-#28

Entry #26: Hope

As soon as we returned to the castle, I ordered for a small caravan of royal guards to find out where the inhabitants of Old Corona now reside. It is my duty as one of the reigning monarchs of this country to know the welfare of my inhabitants. I cannot believe that I have so willingly allowed myself to be blind to their plight until now.

Since his breakdown, Varian has been more confined to his room now than ever. He hardly leaves, hardly eats, and all but drowns himself in work. He requests for Davis to take Ruddiger outside once per day, but otherwise does not acknowledge any of the guards. He begrudgingly lets me in at night, when I typically visit to watch over him, but refuses me at every other time of the day.

He writes like a madman, scrawling out formulas and equations and hypotheticals that seem to go on and on for miles. He compiles his limited knowledge of the rocks, and gets frustrated quickly when his mental research proves fruitless.

He stops only at night, when I prompt him to rest and speak.

On one hand, it feels relieving to have finally broken past whatever blockage in his heart put venom in his words. There’s something very considerate and human about the way he talks to me now. Something humbled.

On the other hand, that humbled tone often sounds far too much like hopelessness.

“I keep trying,” he has said many times in his own self-directed disappointment.

It should be a positive statement; that he keeps pushing forward despite his lack of progress. But instead, it is an all-too dismal acceptance that he is perpetually building towards nothing- a stairway to heaven of sorts.

Thus, I have finally made my judgement. I trust Varian. And come next week, I will allow him to start his physical research.

* * *

 

“You mean it?” Varian is slack-jawed.

He sits on his bed, across from Arianna. His legs are crossed, and his blanket is bunched up in his lap. This is how they usually talk. Except now, Varian leans forward into the conversation with wide eyes and the kind of open-mouthed grin that only a child should possess.

“I do,” Arianna smiles. “Could you prepare a short list for me by tomorrow of what you wish to have the laboratory fitted with? I apologize for the short notice, but we’ll be needing to repurpose an entire room for the sake of this, and the servants will need enough time to prepare everything properly.”

Varian stammers: “Y-yes! Yes, of course! I have so many ideas and plans that I can finally carry out, I-!” He stops himself in his childish excitement and takes a breath. “Thank you, Your Highness,” he says evenly.

Arianna sets her hand on his shoulder. Varian winces, but once he realizes the gesture is kind, relaxes into it.

“Of course, Varian,” Arianna says.

“I-I have to get to work now,” Varian says. “I’m sorry to cut short our little _hangout_ , your Highness, but I’ve got- I’ve got to get ready. This is a-amazing! A lab! Finally! Thank you! _Thank you!”_

* * *

 

Entry #27: A Queen’s Invite

Since telling Varian about the new lab, he has been at his studies nonstop. I often fall asleep on the chair in his room long before he even considers retiring for the night. I fear that he will pass out from his own excitement.

Thus, I have forced Varian to halt his work for just a few hours tonight to have dinner with me on the terrace.

He accepted my request without an uncouth remark. Color me impressed.

* * *

 

“I’m glad you agreed to take a break,” Arianna says, leading Varian out to the terrace.

“I feel like I’m wasting time,” Varian sighs- though his complaint is slight.

Davis chains Varian as soon as the two are seated. It’s dusk outside, and the sky is quickly changing from a bright orange to a deep violet. Soon, it will be pitch-black. Arianna orders Davis to light lanterns in the terrace. Davis seems anxious about leaving the Queen’s side for long enough to get oil and matches, but Arianna assures him that she and Varian will be fine.

Davis leaves reluctantly, keeping an eye on the two until he can’t any longer.

“You trust me too much,” Varian says. It’s that same silky tone he used back at the Battle of Old Corona, but it seems almost playfully chiding this time. “You know, I could escape if I wanted to.”

“You could, couldn’t you?” Arianna sips her coffee.

There’s a silence that follows in which Varian proves Arianna’s point.

Arianna stares into Varian’s face, and tries to imagine what it might have looked like before all the weight of heartbreak had aged it. She tries to mentally reverse his sunken, tired eyes, and his frail cheekbones. She wonders if the scar on his chin was something he’d gotten a long time ago, or if it is just another reminder of his betrayal to the kingdom.

She does admire some of him, though. Despite how beaten down he is, Varian still dares to have a set jaw and a proud spark in his eyes. It almost reminds Arianna of her daughter.

“You work so hard, Varian. I know this must be difficult for you,” Arianna mutters.

Varian tenses. “What do you know about things being _difficult?”_

“My daughter was kidnapped from me and held captive for eighteen years. I know quite a bit,” Arianna says, and it’s her turn to be dry about her pain. “I missed so much from her life. I never got to see her first steps. I never got to watch her grow up. I mourn that loss constantly.”

“But she’s okay now,” Varian says. “My dad still needs me. And- and I owe it to him after-,”

“It was an accident, Varian. A tragic accident, but an accident nonetheless.”

“But it was still my _fault_ ,” Varian snaps.

“Maybe it was. But maybe it was also my husband’s fault for abandoning Old Corona in its time of need. And maybe it’s my fault for never looking into it myself. Varian, this world is too complicated and unpredictable to pass the blame on to any one thing. Humans are not like science. We’re not predictable, and we aren’t fixed. You can’t just add us together and get the same reaction each time. And if we spend all of our time looking at the causes and effects of human err as if we’re no more than programmable and linear machines- we’re fools.”

Varian sighs. He smiles sadly, and the black rings around his eyes make him look old and exhausted.

“Dad used to tell me stories of my mom,” Varian says. “I think you’d like her if you knew her.”

“I did know her,” Arianna says with a coy grin.

“You… did?” Varian glances up.

“Yes. You know, Quirin is an old friend of my husband. The two go back quite a while. I used to spend afternoons with your mother in this terrace right here before you were even born,” Arianna says. She closes her eyes and tries to conjure the image of her old friend in her mind. “Varian?”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“I knew your mother very well. And you know- I think she’d like you too.”

Varian looks taken aback. And then, miraculously, he smiles. “Thank you,” he says simply.

Arianna gives pause to the conversation to enjoy just a single moment of silence. In the distance, she can see Davis returning with the oil and matches. Fireflies have started to crop up in the grass, and Varian looks more like a boy in the darkness rather than the darkness itself.

* * *

 

_ Entry #28: A Newborn! _

_(Entry has been transcribed from a journal dating back roughly a decade-and-a-half ago.)_

_It has been four long years since our dear Rapunzel was taken from us, and every day, we mourn her absence. However, even in the darkest hours, I believe that there is a light which can be found somewhere._

_Today’s light came in the form of news from Quirin and his wife, Camilla._

_As Quirin and my dear husband, Frederic, stole away to the castle chambers to discuss sports and politics, Camilla and I sat in our spot under the garden terrace. I had offered my dear friend a glass of wine, and when she politely refused, I knew right away the reason._

_“You have a baby!” I had gasped._

_Camilla had laughed sweetly and pressed the flat of her palm to the new life in her belly. “You’ve always been quite observant, haven’t you? Quirin and I found out last month. We’re both overjoyed. I didn’t suppose it would be right to bring it up though; what with-,”_

_I stopped her before she could bring tears to my eyes twice over (once for joy, and again for sorrow), by placing my hand over hers and smiling kindly to her._

_“I’m delighted to hear the good news. Do you have any names in mind?”_

_“Diana if she’s a girl. Varian for a boy,” Camilla had said._

_I found both of those names lovely._

_She then leaned forward then and whispered coyly, “And between us- I hope for a boy. Handsome and hard-working- just like his father.”_

_“Little Varian,” I murmured. There was a heartsickness for my own daughter, whose name I could distinctly remember having pondered for ages. But I pushed it aside for the sake of my beloved Camilla’s happiness, and beamed._

_Then, Camilla looked up at me with those lovely pale blue eyes of hers and nodded. She was crying in her joy._

_“Yes. Little Varian.”_


	8. Entries #29-#33

Entry #29: The Lab

Varian was elated to step into the new castle lab. I made due effort to ensure that it was fitted with everything he had asked for. It was charming to watch him race about the room, giggling to himself and inspecting the new equipment.

He perhaps got a bit ambitious with the research he wanted to test. He knew as well as I did that his time in the new lab is limited, and yet, he brought several thick books with him, full of testable hypotheses. So, instead, I provided him the idea to simply get aquatinted with his new equipment for the time being.

He ended up showing me a few simple chemical reactions as if he were teaching a class. I must say—alchemy is a fascinating subject! I cannot believe that I did not get the opportunity to study it as a young girl.

In any case, the guards and my husband are wary about giving Varian access to alchemy again. I do not put them at fault for it. Without alchemy, Varian is just a boy. But this lab offers him a new source of power.

One that I truly hope he will not abuse.

* * *

 

Entry #30: Status Quo

After much debate, and with Davis to support me, I have convinced my husband to again allow Varian’s participation in carrying out small chores within the castle. He will not be permitted around the kitchens, the barracks, or our royal quarters, but he is free to do menial chores with the ladies-in-waiting anywhere else.

Now that he is so occupied with his alchemy, I was surprised when he accepted the extra work. He says that he’d like to show me how alchemy can be used for good. I can’t help but be a bit enthused.

* * *

 

Entry #31: Clean Science

Varian and I spent time this morning in the lab to prepare for his afternoon chores. We have been here often in the past week. I have found myself with a small fascination in the field of alchemy, and admit to becoming something of a lab assistant to Varian. It is odd to be tutored by someone so much younger than yourself, but there’s no denying Varian’s expertise on the subject.

I write down notes and information until my hands are sore. I have been researching on my own time, checking out books about the natural world through our royal library. I must keep up with two journals now just to keep the information organized, and I have caught myself twice almost writing into the wrong one.

Varian has concocted a range of explosive orbs meant for the purpose of cleaning. He claims that they will reduce the need for servants by tenfold. I’m not eager to lay off anyone in my loyal staff, but I am anxious to see how these chemicals react.

We are also in the process of creating a new, experimental substance that may be effective in taking the rust off of iron. I plan to use it to repair the rusted and dangerous prison bars.

Varian has affectionately named the new chemical compound _Arianndrium_.

* * *

 

“I told you, Arianna, I don’t want that boy practicing magic outside of the laboratory! Is it not enough that we are made to bend to his will in providing him with his desired chemicals?”

“It’s alchemy, dear. Not magic,” Arianna says. “And none of it damaged a thing. In fact, the halls are cleaner than ever.”

“I am forbidding it, and that is final,” King Frederic snaps.

“Pardon my disrespect, but you’re being irrational.”

“My dear, this project of yours has gone on long enough, has it not? You know as well as I do that the boy will never be pardoned for his actions.”

“And why is that?”

Frederic flares. “He committed acts of treason! Theft! Regicide! And he-,” the king’s hard face softens and he lets go of a shaky breath. “He tried to hurt you.”

Arianna isn’t moved by his vulnerability, though she feels as if she should be. She averts her gaze. “You told Rapunzel that you would find Varian the help he needs. You will keep your word on that.”

Frederic winces. “Very well, dear. But if I have any reason to believe that he is doing anything dangerous, then he will be returned to the castle dungeon immediately. Do you understand?”

Arianna clenches her jaw. “I do.”

* * *

 

ARIANNDRIUM, DAY 2 OF TESTING—EXPERIMENT NO. 3:

Observations: The Arianndrium has changed color. What was once a bioluminescent blue has faded with time. One week after creating our third batch, our unused samples are now a murky, dirt brown.  It seems as if the chemical has somehow steeped. Uncorked, it smells of dried paint. It feels hot to the touch.

Hypothesis: If we pour the Arianndrium upon rust, it will cause a combustive chemical reaction that will weaken the bonds between the rust and iron—effectively separating the materials.

Results: The aged Arianndrium, like its blue counterpart, is volatile still. It does cleanse rust, but not at the cost of a dangerous explosion. Even one vial proved dangerous enough to obliterate a good inch off the width our stone blast-shield.

Conclusions: Arianndrium is dangerous—and we will discontinue any more research regarding it until further notice.

* * *

 

Entry #32: Praise

Oh, how silly of me! I just realized that I had written my alchemy notes into the wrong notebook. Ah, well—I was quite shaken up after that explosion. Varian felt quite guilty after that, and swore off his work on it until he could devise a safer method of testing. Frederic wasn’t pleased with the damages done to the laboratory, but he’s not said much about sending Varian to the dungeon, so I didn’t say a thing.

In any case, the new chores have been working wonders for Varian.

I found out that he responds well to positive reinforcement.

* * *

 

“And those—those flowers were wilted, but I revived them. A while back, some of the people in my village taught me how to preserve wilting flowers by cutting the stems,” Varian rambles, pointing to the blooming flowers sitting upon a vase in the window. “It’s all very interesting biological science, really.”

He goes on to explain cells, and growth, and botany. Arianna smiles fondly as he does.

“You did well, Varian. Thank you,” she says frankly. “They look wonderful.”

Varian’s eyes go wide and he flushes with satisfaction. “Of course! I mean, no problem. I-it was nothing. Really.”

Varian grins the entire way back to his room. Once back, Davis is there to remove his shackles. Arianna assures him that she’ll be back by nighttime, and turns to leave.

“Wait-,” Varian stops Arianna with a hand on her shoulder. Months ago, the very action would have sent her reeling. Now, she doesn’t fear it beyond a slight jolt.

“Yes, Varian?”

Varian lets go of her and turns away. “Did you really mean it? That the flowers looked good?”

Arianna smiles. “Of course.”

* * *

 

Entry #33: Pride

I am almost embarrassed to admit that I have finally figured out what motivates Varian.

His question about the flowers seemed so easy to overlook at the time—but now I realize that it was padded with insecurity. Despite Varian’s interest in the mastery of alchemy and mechanics, it is neither of those things that drive him. Rather, it is the longing for other people to see his worth and competency.

He is very confident in his abilities, but he is insecure about whether others hold that same confidence.

I do remember Quirin to be quite an emotionally closed-off man. Camilla often remarked that he was always quite sweet and protective, but rarely did he show vulnerability through his emotions. I do hope that he let his guard down for Varian.

I do worry occasionally about Varian’s charming personality. He seems to sway most people who meet him—even the most distrusting of them. Just yesterday, I found the captain talking to him amicably about some historical war.

Rapunzel’s warning still echoes in my head. I am nervous that Varian is only acting kindhearted in an attempt to betray me later when I least expect it.

But I am putting off that thought.

It is satisfying to know that Varian does not hate me, for the time being. It is even more satisfying to realize that perhaps he never did.


	9. Entries #34-#37

Entry #34: Hostility

Varian had to be carried into his room on a stretcher today.

He had gone out with two servants to fetch supplies for the castle (of course, supervised by several guards). Unfortunately, the guards had only been ready for Varian to lash out at the citizens of Corona—and had not been prepared to deal with the exact opposite of happening.

Two men, who are now undergoing trial, admitted to beating the poor boy with rocks and broom handles. Several more joined in, though we have yet to identify them. In any case, Varian has suffered severe bruises, a broken rib, and several minor cuts. He is resting in his bed across from me. Ruddiger is curled up next to him, the loyal creature.

Nigel is to oversee the trial tomorrow, and though I never wish to see my beloved subjects jailed, I can think of no justice otherwise.

* * *

 

Entry #35: The Results of the Trail

Both men were pardoned. I am furious.

* * *

 

Arianna knows that she must act with a certain standard. That she must suppress her emotions. That she must be moral, and bi-partisan, and act with logic in all situations. It’s why she hesitates to visit Varian immediately following the proceedings of the trial.

She knows he must be furious, and she does not want to stoke his flame.

But by the evening, her fury is replaced with an odd sensation of miserable helplessness, and she decides that it’s only fair to Varian to know the fate of his attackers—even if that fate lacked justice.

She nudges the door in and sits besides him. He doesn’t even wait for her to speak. One look at her face, and it’s clear that he knows.

“They were pardoned, weren’t they?” Varian asks, though he knows the answer. “That’s…that’s just typical, isn’t it? Typical of Corona.”

There’s that old anger again. That jaded fury that could be buried, but never destroyed.

Arianna glances at her hands. “They weren’t aware of your…privileges,” she says, cautious not to seem partial. “The rumor that you attacked the princess does not bide well with our citizens, Varian. Neither does the Battle of Old Corona, for that matter.”

“You said you were going to resolve those rumors, Your Highness.”

Arianna pauses. “I…have been waiting for the right time.”

Varian winces as he sits up to look at her. He nearly faints at the strain he puts on his broken rib, but manages to keep his consciousness. “You still don’t trust me,” he says. He looks hurt, but at the same time, it’s clear that he’s been expecting the blow. “You don’t trust me enough to tell people I’m good. You’re scared that I’ll just betray you again.”

“What do you expect me to think, Varian?”

Varian sighs. “I get it,” he grumbles. “I get it, okay? I did a bad thing. An _awful_ thing. I was at the end of my line and I didn’t—I had to hurt people. Nobody would listen otherwise.”

He sucks in a breath and immediately winces. Arianna wants to cradle him—to scold him for putting his body through this stress and to demand that he rest—but she knows she can’t. Not right now.

“Your Highness, you know that I have a dismal faith in Corona. It’s a corrupt kingdom, and it has never defended me, or anyone who lived outside the border walls. But I have faith in _you_. You were a blameless victim, and I—I lashed out at you, and I hurt you, and even after I did those horrible things, you still had enough kindness to want to help me when _nobody_ else did. Everybody turned their backs on me. But you—,” Varian tilts his head down like a guilty dog. “Look, Your Highness, if you don’t ever trust me again…I—I guess I can accept that. Really.”

“Is that so?”

Varian almost cracks a smile. “I trust your judgement.”

It’s in that moment that Arianna makes the decision she’d been doubting for the past several weeks. She clears her throat. Puts on her most regal expression. “Varian, what you did to me and my family was cruel. It was traumatizing. I still have nightmares about your automatons, and of you. As much as you praise my kindness, I don’t believe my heart will ever be open to forgiving you for that.”

“I—I…that’s okay. I accept that,” Varian relents.

“I’m not done. What those men got away with today is frankly despicable. And if clearing your name, perhaps prematurely, will prevent this from happening again, I will put every ounce of energy I have into that task.”

All hopes of remaining impartial fall away as Arianna moves forward to help Varian settle back down into a laying position. She doesn’t know what possesses her to do it—to perform such a maternal act of affection. But she knows it’s important to Varian because of the way he smiles back up at her.

* * *

 

Entry #36: News From Old Corona (What Is Left Of It)

The guards have finally returned with news of Old Corona!

It has been a long and strenuous journey—Old Coronal has been scattered amongst the farmlands, far out west. There is arguing between two groups of villagers over which patch of land should officially be Old Corona. They are without a Vassal still, living in temporary shacks. They have chosen not to elect a new leader until the land is divided properly.

If old Coronal still wishes to fall under the king’s crown, they will need someone to represent them. Due to Quirin’s…incapacitation, it is obvious that the most ordained person for the position is his son. But I do not know if Varian is anywhere near ready to lead a colony of people—nor do I expect his village to look at him kindly after what he’s done.

In other news, a royal decree refuting the rumor that Varian had attacked Rapunzel was carried out yesterday.

I am delighted to say that Varian has since gone to the market again, this time without casualty.

His wounds are healing quite impressively. It has been two weeks since the incident, and he should be well again enough to return to his daily chores in one more week’s time. Right now, the only things he concerns himself with are menial tasks—the occasional room-making chore, and afternoons in the alchemy lab (taking caution to avoid explosive reactions).

He rests most of the time, however. I spend much of my time with him, to my husband’s chagrin. Not often is it coexistence—we interact often now. Mostly to play games like chess, or to talk about politics and science.

These amicable and friendly conversations both wound and heal the gap left by the absence of my daughter. Wound, because it reminds me of how much I dearly miss her. Heal, because there is some facet of my heart that desires to be maternal, and that muscle is exercised when I’m with Varian.

Behind the hyper-mature version of himself that he’s constructed to survive, he’s actually quite a teenager!

* * *

 

“I think I should start doing some kind of exercises as soon as it doesn’t hurt to breathe,” Varian says, sitting cross-legged on his bed. He moves a chess piece and knocks out Arianna’s bishop.

“Exercises? Like physical therapy?” Arianna moves a pawn two spaces forward.

“No. Like, uh—push ups and stuff like that,” Varian says, taking out her pawn with his.

“An _En Passant?_ I should have known you were smarter than to be ignorant of that,” Arianna laughs. “But push-ups?”

“You know, because I’m technically going through, uh, _puberty_ right now, and my body’s capacity for muscle growth is really at a peak potential,” Varian supplies, his face flushing.

“Now, why would that be something of interest?”

“You know, health. Can’t ever be too safe with a healthy blood-pressure. And, well, girls too. I was just thinking it might give me a chance again with, uh, you know what? F-forget it. It’s not important. Do your turn already.”

“Oh, Varian,” Arianna laughs. She knocks out a pawn with her knight, and smiles. “Checkmate.”

Varian nearly throws the board.

* * *

 

Arianna freezes when she sees the letter in Varian’s hand. She had no idea he’d been in her study—he’s banned from any royal quarters, after all—and she’s even less pleased to see that he’s been rifling through her mail.

She recognizes the letter instantly as the one she had refrained from sending Rapunzel. It’s many weeks old at this point.

“I—I can explain! I was just going to clean up your study a bit to impress you and I didn’t-,” Varian stammers, awkwardly shoving the letter back into the drawer, and nearly closing it on his fingers as he scrambles to close it.

“Varian, as much as I appreciate your services, I’d like for you to refrain from extending them to my personal study,” Arianna says. She feels a twinge in her gut. She hopes he hasn’t gone through more of her letters—her journal is sitting in the adjacent drawer.

“I’m sorry, I just-,” Varian rubs his neck. “So, you chose me, huh? You chose me over Rapunzel?”

Arianna frowns. “I didn’t _choose_ you over anyone, Varian. I listened to you. That is all.”

* * *

 

Entry #37: A Royal Invitation

I am overjoyed to document that my husband has agreed to host company with Varian tonight for dinner. At my enthusiasm, he gave me the sweetest expression, and said something along the lines of, “Arianna, I have not made you smile in so long—I almost forgot I could.”

If my smile inspires nothing else from him, I am glad that it has inspired compassion.

Davis is also excited for the arrangements. He has been guard duty following Varian and I for so many months, I suppose this is a victory for him as well. Anyways—I must not waste more time. Varian must hear of this news immediately!

* * *

 

Arianna feels like her overzealous daughter as she makes her ways down the corridors and into Varian’s room. She hardly stops herself from bursting in. When she knocks and lets herself in, Varian is busy with note-taking at his desk.

He settles his quill down and nods. “Your Highness,” he greets. He says the words with no malice at all these days. If Arianna were any more hopeful, she’d even consider them _respectful_.

“The King has invited you to have dinner with us tonight,” Arianna says.

“He does now?”

“Do you accept?”

“Your Highness, with all due respect, I’m not really a huge fan of your husband. He’s not really my kind of company.” Varian winces as a shock of pain goes through his chest. Even the darkest of the old bruises and cuts have faded completely by now, though his ribs still cause him enough pain to require medicine.

“You can’t deny him your attendance, Varian,” Arianna says. “He’s willing to give you a chance tonight. I wouldn’t waste it.”

Varian’s face softens with realization. His voice goes hushed. “You—you mean…?”

“You may not be considered a prisoner for much longer if all goes well,” Arianna confirms.

“Your Highness, I—I don’t know what to say.”

“Just say that you’ll accept, Varian,” Arianna says. “And you must promise that you won’t cause an uproar. I know that you’re still upset with Corona. I know that you don’t have the most favorable opinion of my husband. But you have to think of your own best interests tonight. There will be more time to discuss politics when you’re…”

“When I’m free,” Varian says, his voice a whisper.

Arianna’s heart drops at the look of hope on Varian’s face. Seeing anyone so starved for freedom makes her feel something awful. But yet…

“I know what I said—and please don’t lose hope—but I can’t promise you anything definite.”

Varian smiles, almost bitterly. “It’s okay, Your Highness. I don’t take promises well anyways.”

* * *

 

Dinner is quiet. Almost uncomfortably so. But Arianna doesn’t mind it—especially if it means that Varian will be kept from saying anything accidentally vulgar or impassioned.

“So, _boy_ ,” Frederic says, drawing his lip back. “What have you been working on in that science lab of yours?”

Varian seems to ponder this question. Arianna is glad—she doesn’t know if talking about the rocks is a particularly wise topic, given how his last experiment with them ended.

“Ah—well, we did have a bit of progress on a new compound Her Highness and I have been working on. I’ve called it Arianndrium in honor of, you know, Her Royal Majesty. It has the chemical properties that can strip the rust off of iron. It’s been a work in progress that we’ve halted lately because of some…unexpected results, but we think that when we perfect it, the Arianndrium can be implemented in the barracks, the stables, and the dungeons.”

“Right,” Frederic says. He doesn’t seem particularly pleased with the new information, but he isn’t swearing off on the alchemy experiments either. It’s a victory as far as Arianna is concerned.

Davis smiles from across the room. Looking at him, Arianna is overwhelmed with her gratitude for his support. Without him, Varian likely would not be sitting at this table.

The servants come out with food shortly after. One servant trips as she leaves the kitchen, but Davis catches her before Varian’s dinner goes sprawling across the floor. After a quick apology, the plate is settled in front of Varian.

They eat for a while in moderate conversation. Frederic talks about Rapunzel’s whereabouts, and Varian keeps himself from saying anything even remotely spiteful. Eventually, though, he starts to stare off into space.

“Boy? Are you listening?”

“I-,” Varian murmurs. “I’m really honored to have dinner with you, Your Majesty, but-,” he nearly slumps forward in his chair before waking himself up with a rough shake of his head. “I don’t—I don’t feel that well. I think I should retire.”

“He’s had a long day, your Majesty,” Davis supplies quickly, stopping Varian just before the boy’s head falls into his plate. “And his wounds still have yet to heal. He’s been taking painkillers—perhaps he took them too early tonight. Please excuse him.”

“Very well,” Frederic says. “Escort him back to his room, Davis. And have a servant take his plate.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Davis picks up Varian and coaxes him to walk. Varian sways as he makes his way out of the hall, nearly tripping over his own feet.

Arianna feels like something very wrong has occurred, but before she can put her finger on it, Frederic interrupts her thoughts.

“Insolent.”

“He clearly didn’t mean to do it on purpose, dear,” Arianna says. “Those painkillers _are_ potent, you know.”

“I do wish you wouldn’t defend him like this,” Frederic huffs. “Ever since you put it into your head that he was anything more than a criminal and a terrorist, you’ve been doing nothing but mothering him.”

“I’ve been treating him fairly,” Arianna says, perhaps too defensively. “I have not been mothering.”

“Is that so? Why do you insist on spending so much time with him, then? On making sure he’s fed and bathed? Why do you spend every night in his godforsaken chambers?”

“He’s a child, Frederic!”

“He’s a child who nearly took our daughter away from us a second time!” Frederic roars. The strain in his voice makes Arianna hush. “Or have you forgotten that?”

“I…I haven’t forgotten. And I haven’t forgiven. I don’t intend to do either anytime soon.”

“Then why do you act as if you have?”

Arianna stares at Frederic for a long time. Long enough for her to see past the stubbornness in his eyes, and into the hurt nestled within. It’s why she loved Frederic to begin with—because she knew that behind his exterior, there was someone in there who was truly good and kind. Someone who acted with the benefit of his family before himself.

She doesn’t know how to explain to her husband that she sees that same passion in Varian.

She doesn’t get the chance to try.

A bomb goes off.


	10. Entries #33-#???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know I planned for this to only take like, a month, because I had the entire draft finished and done with before I even posted the first chapter but sometimes it's like this.

Entry #38: Aftermath

There were three explosions in total.

All three occurred in Varian’s quarters.

I remember things happening in a blur. The family physician has diagnosed me with shock, and I’ve been confined to bedrest. Bedrest is not helpful in the least, however, for I experience haunting dreams.

What I saw in that room—it was horrific.

The three explosions had caused disproportionate damage. Black marks streaked across the room. Varian was passed out against the wall, blood covering his face and arms. Davis was unconscious as well, and had his crossbow unsheathed next to his collapsed form.

The entire hallway still smells pungently of dried paint.

* * *

 

Entry #39: Confined

I have been forbidden from seeing Varian. Since the explosion one week ago, he has been moved back to his cell in the dungeon. I have tried on too many occasions to leave, but I am forced back into my chambers. The doctor says that putting more stress on myself is unwise at this time.

Pete and Stan guard my door now. They escort me everywhere, and take shifts so that I am supervised twenty-four hours a day.

Davis is healing up in the hospital wing of the castle. He has suffered many injuries—supremely on his arms, which he admits he used to shield himself with during the blast. Several layers of skin and muscle have been obliterated, and the surgeon there says that he doubts Davis will ever be able to wield a short-ranged weapon ever again.

He has begged me to continue advocating for Varian’s release, and though the captain has kept him at a vow of silence until the trial, Davis promises that he will be testifying in Varian’s defense.

The entire scene was incriminating, and I myself only possess one theory to explain what happened on that night. But I will be there with my husband overseeing court. I will oversee justice—whether or not it tilts in my favor.

Perhaps…Rapunzel was correct. Perhaps Varian was using me this entire time—planning out my moves strategically to his. A game of chess. Staging his breakdowns, his vulnerabilities, his kindness, his complacency. Bluffing. Letting me get the checkmate.

But, in that case, why would he have chosen _right then?_ A moment so close to his freedom?

I will see him tomorrow in court. I do not think it will be a pleasant reunion.

* * *

 

Varian is lead into the room. He is tied up in enough chains to completely incapacitate a full-grown man. His wounds look bad—yet, somehow not as horrible as Davis’. His face is red and scabs that will become scars cover his jaw, nose, and forehead. His arms are in bad shape, wrapped up in gauze and padding underneath the chains.

He looks like a rabid, terrified animal. Arianna knows already what the crowd must be thinking as they look at him.

The villain. The monster. The mad alchemist. The political insurgent.

He cannot be trusted. From the moment he walks into the courtroom, this is made abundantly clear.

Varian’s eyes stare up at Arianna, but the Queen hardly knows how to trust her own instincts. Despite the logical inconsistencies, the evidence is overwhelming. Varian is taken to the defendant’s seat. He is drilled with questions delivered by the Captain.

The Captain shoots off these questions with such an urgency and demand that Varian has almost no time to prepare himself between them.

“Name.”

“Varian.”

“Why did you attempt to escape confinement?”

“I don’t—I didn’t…”

“It’s to my knowledge that you retired early from a dinner with the royal Majesties. Am I correct?”

“I—yes, that’s right.”

“What caused you to retire early?”

“I think I was tired.”

“You _think_ you were tired?”

“I was—I was taking medications for some injuries. They naturally have side-effects, like drowsiness.”

“Have you ever remembered being affected by them in such a manner before?”

“I…No, I don’t.”

“Where did you acquire the bomb?”

“I didn’t have a bomb,” Varian protests. “I wouldn’t even know how to _get_ an explosive in the castle. I’m not allowed in the barracks, and I have guards following me everywhere.”

“I object,” the Captain says. He turns to Frederic and Arianna, frowning. “Your Majesties, this boy just made a very telling lie.”

“What? Listen to me, I didn’t-,”

“Boy, can you explain to me what you’ve been working on recently in that laboratory of yours?” The Captain asks.

Varian’s eyes widen and dart around the room, as if looking for an escape. “Well, I—they’re mostly just experiments on the rocks and—and basic cleaning solutions.”

“Cleaning solutions? Like Arianndrium?” The Captain asks. At Varian’s expression, the Captain smiles broadly. “Don’t look shocked. I did my fair share of research, boy.”

Varian’s eyes widen. “I—we halted progress on the Arianndrium, sir.”

“And why is that?”

“It’s…highly volatile,” Varian admits. “But I didn’t-,”

“Can you explain to the court the chemical properties of this solution that make it so dangerous?”

Varian pauses. And then he swallows and nods. “When it comes into contact with rust, it has an unprecedented combustive reaction. It’s something in the oxidation that occurs in rusted iron versus the oxygen molecules in the Arianndrium—I wish I knew more, but something like this has never been touched upon in a book of modern alchemy.”

“So, you _did_ technically have access to an explosive in the castle?”

Varian winces, “Yes, but-,”

“Now, what in your room could have set off such an explosion?”

“I…I suppose the bars in my windows have a workable amount of rust on them. They were cut from recycled materials, since I was moved up to the castle with such short notice.”

“And why would you try to blow off the bars to your window?” The Captain doesn’t wait for Varian to respond. “That’s right—to escape. Your Majesty, it’s clear to me that this _terrorist_ is the only possible person who could have committed such a crime. He has an obvious motive, and there’s overwhelming evidence that the only person who could have set off that explosive, which we’ve proved recently _was_ in fact caused by the Arianndrium, is him. I don’t believe he halted his experimentation on Arianndrium at all. I believe that he _finished_ it.”

The Captain steps across the floor to address the court, “Now, it’s important to note that the defendant is the only person in this room with knowledge of Arianndrium’s workings. Until just recently, everyone on the guard—including myself—was convinced that the destruction had been caused by a small gunpowder explosive. However, upon further investigation we found that a journal left in the laboratory exposed the presence of Arianndrium at the scene of the crime.”

“And how is that so? Are there certain blast patterns?” Frederic asks.

“Not quite,” the Captain shakes his head. “Arianndrium is a potent chemical substance, and one of the side effects of its combustive reactions is a strong, undeniable smell. It’s a bit like dried paint. And if you’ve been anywhere near that wing of the palace, you’ll know what I’m talking about.”

“I wasn’t the only one who knew about the Arianndrium!” Varian snaps.

A fist slamming against the table shocks the entire room into silence. “Speak when you’re spoken to, boy!” the Captain roars. He composes himself quickly. “In any case, I was going to mention that. In order to be sure of Varian’s guilt, we must address the two other variables in this crime—namely, the only other two people in the castle who knew of the Arianndrium’s existence before the night of the crime.”

The Captain gestures to Davis and Arianna. The court is silent enough to hear a pin drop. Arianna never loved the theatrics of criminal courts, but she likes it even less now that the attention has been pointed at her.

Frederic dispels any treasonous thoughts immediately. “My wife has an alibi, Captain.”

“Of course. And Davis is a member of the guard. Therefore, there really is only one person who fits the ticket of conviction-,”

“Captain, I’d like you to question Davis,” Frederic interrupts. “After all, we are a proper court, and we will not jump to conclusions.”

“I…yes, your Majesty,” the Captain relents, bowing. “I ask forgiveness for my overzealousness.”

“Granted.”

Arianna nearly double-takes. Her husband, in all his distrust for Varian, has chosen to give the boy one last fighting chance.

The court’s attention turns to Davis. Propped up on crutches and looking as if each breath is a labor, Davis stands up. The wounded guard looks around the room, then locks eyes with Varian. In a silent moment of conversation, he nods like a doomed man and steps forward.

“What is your name?” the Captain asks, for formality’s sake.

“Davis.”

“What was your involvement with the incident?”

Davis swallows hard. Then he stares dead into the captain’s eyes and frowns. “It was me, Captain. I set off the explosion.”

Noise erupts in the court. It’s so disruptive, that Frederic is forced to call order.

Davis continues, unbothered. “I admit, I have been curious about the Arianndrium for quite some time. As you’re likely aware, I was previously a resident of Old Corona, where our technologies are greatly outdated, as well as our tools and machinery. Especially now with the displacement, I found that Arianndrium could be used to greatly benefit many of the people from my village. As the guard assigned to Varian, I was the sole keeper of the lab key. I confess to have read through many of the Queen’s journals regarding the experiments.”

“Is that so?” the Captain raises a brow. Somehow, he doesn’t at all seem taken aback.

“I didn’t know it was explosive. In my eagerness, I didn’t read past the experiment’s hypothesis as stated in the journal. I recreated the Arianndrium that night before the dinner. You should know the rest.”

The Captain seems unconvinced. “The rest? Son, how did you get that chemical onto the bars of Varian’s room? They’re ten feet off the ground.”

“I was—I suppose I was busy chaining Varian in, sir, and I tripped over one of the chains. The beaker slipped.”

“From?”

“My, ah, my pocket, sir. I caught it before it hit the ground, but then Varian startled me by asking about it, and it flew out of my hands.”

“That seems unlikely.”

“I…”

“Can you prove that you were the only person that could have been in possession of the chemical?”

“Well, only I have the key to the lab. And both Arianna and I can testify that Varian had not been in the lab for weeks up to that point due to his injuries.”

“Right. Well, I have one more question for you,” the Captain says. His tone makes Arianna’s heart plummet. There’s a sense of confidence to it.

Arianna doesn’t know in that moment who to fear for—Varian or Davis. She has come to trust and love both, and she wonders almost foolishly if it’s possible that neither of them committed the crime.

But then the Captain speaks, and it’s clear what happened.

“Why was your bow drawn, Davis?”

Davis freezes. “I…It must have fallen out during the explosion, Captain. If it was drawn, that’s only because it so happened to fall that way.”

“Is that so?”

“I’m sure.”

“You shouldn’t be, son. Did you know that the safety was off?”

Davis’ eyes widen. He looks as if he’s been struck—backed into a corner with nowhere else to go.

“The first rule of crossbow safety. Can you announce to the court what that is?” the Captain asks.

Davis winces, “Always keep the safety on—unless in danger.”

The Captain smiles. “You’re a fine soldier, Davis. I don’t expect that you failed such a simple act of protocol.”

Davis sighs, bows his head, and sends a helpless look in Arianna’s direction. Arianna doesn’t know what to make of it, or how to feel. Her head is spinning.

“Davis, would you like a second chance to state your alibi?”

“I’m so sorry,” Davis murmurs. He takes in a shaky breath. “I—I thought I saw Varian sneaking something out of the lab several weeks ago, shortly before the incident at town that rendered him too weak to perform an effective escape. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I was tired that day, and I figured that it had just been the work of my imagination. On the day of the explosion, Varian pretended to be drowsy from pain medications to give himself enough time to enact his plans. Truthfully, he hadn’t taken medication at all that day. Not to my knowledge.

“I chained him up as per standard when we arrived at his room. But as I was leaving, I saw him extract several vials of that blue chemical, the Arianndrium, from beneath his mattress. There was a struggle as I tried to detain him, but…he’d already thrown the explosives at the bars. There was nothing I could do.”

At Davis’ last word, the court explodes into madness. Guards murmur uneasily amongst themselves, and Frederic mutters under his breath. Above it all, Varian is screaming.

“I didn’t do it! He’s lying—he’s-,”

“Shut it!” the Captain snarls. The court silences in the instant. “I think this has explained any minor inconsistencies. The biggest doubt I had with this method of escape was the timing. Why would this boy try to escape when it seemed as if he would be shortly pardoned? Unless his initial plan was delayed. After his incident in the town, Varian was indeed injured too severely to make an effective escape. At the time of the explosion, he had been doing well enough to no longer require medication for his injuries. This matches up nicely with our timeline. To me, it seems as though Varian’s guilt has been proven beyond the shadow of a doubt. Your Majesties?”

“I have made my decision,” Frederic says finally. “The boy is guilty.”

All eyes fall on to Arianna. She is overseeing this court too, and it is her job in this moment to pass judgement.

She feels bile rise up in her throat as she stares at Varian. She tries hard to reconstruct the image of a villain in him, but that idea is now tainted by memories of fondness. She looks at him—forces herself to see the steely hatred in his eyes again. But all she sees is pale blue.

_Blue._

Arianna’s chest heaves with realization and she’s all too breathless as she shouts, “I have an objection!”

“Arianna!” Frederic snaps, craning his head to glare at her.

Arianna ignores his ire. She feels almost dizzy as the pieces fit together in her head at a breakneck speed.

“Davis,” she says, voice quivering, “your testimony can’t be true.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You said the vial was blue,” Arianna says.

“I—I did? I mean, yes, I did. Arianndrium _is_ blue. It says so in the alchemy journal _you_ wrote, Your Majesty.”

“If that’s the case, I’m positive that Varian couldn’t have caused the explosion.” A murmur ripples through the crowd. Arianna lets her voice silence it. “Yes, it’s true that Arianndrium is blue…when you first make it. But after it’s been steeped for a week untouched, it turns brown. And you said it yourself—Varian hadn’t gone in the lab for at least several weeks.”

Davis’ expression changes so fast, it seems inhuman. His gaze is deadly. “That wasn’t in your notebook, your Highness. How can you prove such a theory?”

“I’ve been keeping two notebooks lately. Sometimes I get them mixed up. I’ll write my alchemy findings in my personal journal, and vice-versa. The revelation that Arianndrium turns brown wasn’t in the notebook I keep in the lab, because I’d written it into my other journal by mistake.”

The Captain stares at Arianna with wide eyes. He whips back to Stan and Pete. “What are you waiting for?” he barks, “get that journal!”

Arianna pays them no mind. They’ll find the journal, and they’ll prove that Varian is innocent. Of that, she’s sure now. Her new vexation is reserved purely for Davis.

“You drugged him at dinner, didn’t you? When the servant dropped the plate?”

Davis only frowns.

“You staged a fight with an unconscious boy to make it appear as though a struggle had occurred. You faked a purposely botched alibi to throw the Captain’s scent off of you completely.”

Arianna expects Varian to be frozen in shock, but when she tenders a glance at him, he’s shaking with rage. His teeth are clenched, and his chest rises and falls as he seethes.

Davis acts as though he is unaffected by Varian’s hatred.

“Your Highness, everything I did was for Corona. You’d understand if you’d been where I was—in Old Corona. You never saw the destruction that boy was capable of before the Battle of Old Corona, but I _lived_ it. His boilers destroyed my house, his machines destroyed my yields—he encased his own father, _our Vassal_ , in unbreakable amber because of his foolish obsession with those black rocks. My life was destroyed because of him, and I refused to let Corona face the same fate. As soon as I heard that Varian was a wanted man, I enlisted for the guard. I wanted to be the one to put him out once and for all. But I wasn’t on active service until _after_ the Battle of Old Corona.”

Davis sighs, “I played stupid and allowed him to run away, hoping he’d be caught. But I quickly realized that putting him back in the dungeons for a misdemeanor like that—it wouldn’t serve to function. Varian deserves a punishment greater than rotting in prison. I needed something big. So, I bided my time.” He smiles crookedly. “Learning about the Arianndrium? That was a holiday to me.”

Varian lunges forward. Stan and Pete have to grab him by the chains to hold him back. “I trusted you!” he roars, misery and hurt coating his voice. “I trusted you and you betrayed me!”

“You destroyed my life!” Davis snarls back. “Everything I had! Everyone I loved! It’s _your_ fault!”

Varian doesn’t say a word to that. He doesn’t need to. Moments later, Stan and Pete come racing into the courtroom, Arianna’s journal in their hands.

“We found it!” they cry, “we found the journal! Varian is innocent!”

* * *

 

Entry #40: Final Decisions

A month has passed since the trial.

I apologize for not updating as dutifully as I normally do, but with everything that’s gone on—I suppose that I’ve decided to step back from my journals for my own health. At least for the moment being.

Immediately following the trial, Davis was sentenced to serve prison time. He’ll be locked up for several years on counts of aggravated assault, attempted murder, framing, and lying in contempt of court. In a year’s time, he may be taken back to court in order to be tried for treason as well.

I say this because in one year’s time, Varian will be completely pardoned for his crimes, and liable to return to Old Corona as their acting nobility.

Varian has committed horrendous crimes. He has committed acts of violence against my kingdom, against me, and against my daughter. Complete forgiveness will never be an option for me. However, I cannot deny that he has also felt adequate shame and remorse for his actions. Perhaps not for Corona—but shame and remorse despite.

Since the trial, he has not worn his shackles—and it is unlikely that he ever will again.

I have asked him about what he will chose to do once he is pardoned. Varian admits that he does not yet know. Keeping in mind that he is Quirin’s son, and therefore the de-facto Vassal to the divided state of Old Corona, he has mentioned potentially returning to restore his village.

Yet, since Davis, he fears what his townspeople will think of him.

I do not blame him, but I feel that with Frederic’s and my blessings, he will be received more graciously than he expects.

* * *

 

Varian sits under the canopy of the terrace. He has lunch with Arianna three times during the week—his only periods of rest between his constant duties working both in the lab and with the servants. The time is valued greatly between both of them.

“If I returned to Old Corona,” Varian begins, chewing his food thoughtfully, “I don’t know if I would honor its status as a sister state to the kingdom.”

At Arianna’s expression, he quickly adds, “Not that I would wage war or disrupt trade. I just don’t think it’s smart for my village to rely on Corona any longer. Since the rocks, we’ve been displaced too far away for the kingdom to provide adequate protection anyways.”

“Is returning to Old Corona your plan?” Arianna asks. “You’re only on probation for another month, you know.”

“Duly aware,” Varian smiles. He seems to think for a moment. “And no, I—I don’t think becoming a Vassal is in my best interests. Of course, I’ve read theories on leadership. But the real thing is something that needs experience. Old Corona is too broken and divided to have a leader who’s unsure.”

“Then, may I ask what your plan is?”

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” Varian says, as though this should come as a surprise, “and I’ve come to the conclusion that I’d like to work under Corona’s court as an advisor-in-training of sorts. If—If you’d allow it, of course.”

“Just a moment you were talking about seceding from the kingdom, and now you’d like to work for it?” Arianna laughs lightheartedly. “I may never understand you.”

Varian scoffs. “It’s not like I care about Corona. But there should be someone on the inside to voice the concerns of the sister countries. Old Corona isn’t the only place under protection of the crown that gets overlooked, you know. I just—I don’t want anyone to go unheard ever again if I can help it.”

“Domestic affairs. Interesting,” Arianna nods. “You’d live in the castle, of course.”

“I know. I was kind of hoping I would,” Varian admits. “Honestly? I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’d miss our time, Your Highness.”

“You’re permitted to call me Arianna, you know,” Arianna smiles. “You _are_ the son of a dear family friend, after all.”

“I’m sorry, uh—Arianna. Oh _wow_ , that’s weird. You wouldn’t think so, but it is.” Varian breaks off to laugh awkwardly. His eyebrows knit, then, and he looks pensive. “Um, can I ask you something?”

“Certainly,” Arianna says.

Varian swallows hard before looking up at Arianna. In the sunlight, his fading scars make his face a soft pink. “What was my mom like?”

Arianna’s heart floods with a million memories, soft and heartbreaking, all at once. She puts her hand over Varian’s and offers it a gentle squeeze.

Arianna takes a deep breath. And then she begins, “She was the kindest person I’ve ever met, and she loved you more than anyone had ever loved anything...”

* * *

 

Entry #41: Pardoning Day

Today, Varian is free.

Tomorrow, he will start his new life working under Nigel as the advisor’s apprentice. Nigel expressed a predictable amount of distaste towards the prospect, but my husband has signed off on the idea, and even Nigel is wiser than to defy Frederic’s wishes.

Varian still works countless hours in the lab. At my request, he does not commit any more of his experiments towards the black rocks, though he does still observe and craft several theories about them. Much of his work is in favor of the country—developing weapons and scientific advancements of the beneficial and practical sort.

I have commented that he may have a position as a state alchemist very soon, to which Frederic good-naturedly replied: “The boy can only have so many titles at once, dear. Give him a moment to breathe, would you?”

I have written often to my beloved daughter about Varian’s progress. She expressed some hurt over my dismissal of her initial judgements, but overall, she is elated to know that he is rebuilding himself in a positive way.

In any case, I’m afraid that I have no more use for this journal. Even if I did have some use for it, I fear I am too busy to write nowadays—I’ve got many duties to attend to, including supervision over the reformation of our treatments towards our prisoners.

I’m feeling quite bittersweet that my journey here has come to an end, but I’m so grateful for the experiences and the bonds that I have gained from these entries.

Varian’s future is bright. I am eager to watch it shine over all of Corona.

* * *

 

_Entry #???: A Promise Kept_

_A deep sorrow has filled the chasm of my heart._

_As I sit in my chair now, writing, I am witness to my dear Camilla’s ever-weakening form at the bed besides me. Since Varian’s birth two years ago, she has only been getting more and more ill. We fear that her time left is waning, and so my husband and I have taken a temporary leave of absence from the palace to be at her side._

_Quirin is affected greatly by this, but he shows his weakness sparingly. He believes that he needs to stay strong for his son. It’s a noble thought, but the emotional toil has taken a painful toll on him._

_He’s resting now, while Frederic goes to the market with a servant. I’ve been tasked with watching over little Varian until Quirin wakes up again._

_Varian is such a dear to watch over! He’s quite the smart young child already, though somewhat shy. He touches things he’s not supposed to (especially when you mention that he isn’t supposed to touch them), as all children are wont to do, but he’s an angel otherwise._

_Camilla was awake not more than ten minutes ago, reading stories to him. She loves him so fiercely, it breaks my heart to know that she’s fading from him._

_“Arianna,” she had said, and I swear that I will never forget her eyes as she spoke—glistening with hope and defeat at the same time, “I think I envy him. By the time he grows up, he’ll only remember this pain as a dull ache.”_

_“Oh, Camilla,” I had whispered._

_“I won’t be there for him as he grows up-,” her eyes began to water, “-Quirin is a wonderful father, and I have full confidence in his ability to take care of our son, but oh—Arianna, please promise me that you’ll be there for him when I can’t be.”_

_She fell into a harsh coughing fit, then. She coughs up blood these days. I dabbed it away with the cloth of my own gown. Varian, unknowing, tugged at her wrist impatiently._

_“Up!” Varian had demanded._

_I picked him up, setting him in my lap. He’s an awfully small boy. He wriggled and fought me for a moment, reaching out for his mother. Camilla only laughed and squeezed his little palm reassuringly._

_“Dear, mommy has to rest,” she murmured. “I’ll play in a bit.”_

_Varian whined at this, but I placated him quickly. Camilla smiled._

_“Thank you, Arianna.”_

_“Of course, Camilla. You rest, now. I’ll take care of him.”_

_And in that moment, I vowed to myself that no matter what—I would._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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